


The ghosts we leave behind

by echoknight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Space family, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 44,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24412078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoknight/pseuds/echoknight
Summary: Falling in love was inevitable. Becoming a family was a choice.A series of short stories about the Rebels family, and how they came to be that way.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus & Hera Syndulla, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 145
Kudos: 217





	1. Misguided ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one takes place a few months after Star Wars: A New Dawn.

Even before she left Ryloth and her father behind, Hera had felt as if it was just her and Chopper against the universe. Cham hadn’t been very emotionally available even in the best of times, and her mother’s death had just exacerbated his militancy.  
  
She got used to being alone. She was alone when she was home on Ryloth, before she left her father behind and took to the stars. She was alone on the odd jobs she did as a pilot before she found a purpose. Before Gorse.  
  
Chopper had been the only constant in her life for some time, and she told herself she wasn’t lonely. She had an irascible droid she loved to pieces, sometimes literally, and she had the _Ghost_ , and she had her mission. She was going to help people. She was going to tear the Empire to the ground. She didn’t need anyone else in her life, no friends, no family, no one other than occasional allies.  
  
But then Gorse happened.  
  
More specifically, Kanan Jarrus happened.  
  
When she met him, she was put off by his cocky smile and apparent overconfidence, assuming he was just another handsome, smart boy who was all too aware that he was handsome and smart. Then he had revealed his connection to the Force, and his usefulness as a partner, so she didn’t hesitate to take him on her tiny crew.  
  
What she hadn’t expected was for Kanan to become, well, a partner. She already trusted him to have her back on jobs, but between work there was plenty of downtime for them to get to know each other. He was a surprisingly good mechanic and had done something magical to the caf machine to make the drink even stronger. He was good at repurposing protein bars and terrible at dejarik, yet he seemingly never got tired of Hera’s crowing after she won.  
  
He helped out around the ship. He oiled the chairs, made the fixes that Chopper couldn’t do without opposable thumbs, always made sure the kitchen was stocked and the fresher was clean. Living alone on the ship for so long, she had forgotten what it was like to have another person aboard, not only to share the work, but to share company.  
  
They never talked about the past, but she found that she could have conversations with Kanan about almost anything else, from engineering to holodramas. She began to recognize his cocky smirk as a mask hiding something genuine, something warm. The first time she made him laugh, really laugh, her heart had fluttered distressingly.  
  
He had also not stopped being handsome, which was occasionally distracting. And she knew he felt strongly about her, but would never make a move, because he respected her and her wishes. Which of course only made her like him more.  
  
Because, yes, fine, she liked Kanan Jarrus more than a partner, more than a friend.  
  
Chopper gave an aggrieved beep. She was cleaning him after their last job, a mission on Lothal which had unfortunately involved an excessive amount of mud being tracked into the _Ghost_. She realized she had been scrubbing the same spot on his dome for several minutes, all traces of mud long gone.  
  
“Sorry, Chop,” she said absentmindedly. He gave her an annoyed boop and flicked her elbow with one of his arms. “You’re right, you’re right, you’re clean now, go charge up.”  
  
Chop sped out of her room, grumbling as the doors closed behind him. Hera sighed and sat cross-legged on the floor for awhile, feeling as aggrieved as Chopper.  
  
The thing is, she was Hera Syndulla. _Captain_ Hera Syndulla. Aspiring rebel and pilot extraordinaire. She had goals, a purpose, a mission. She did not have time for a crush on her crewmate, no matter how dazzling his turquoise eyes.  
  
Unfortunately, she was also a young pilot whose only friend was a cranky rusting droid, susceptible as anyone else in the galaxy to becoming embroiled in ill-advised romantic entanglements.  
  
There was a soft rap at the door.  
  
“Hera?” Kanan called softly. “I prepped us some dinner.”  
  
Of course he had.  
  
“Be there in a minute,” she called back.  
  
She waited until she heard his soft footsteps echo down the hall. Her flight suit had fallen victim to the mud of Lothal, so she was already wearing her sleep shirt and her favorite pair of soft elastic pants with a hole in the left knee. It had been six months, and Kanan had only seen her wearing her flight suit or disguises. There was something rather intimate about letting him see her in lounging clothes.  
  
_Stop it,_ she thought to herself, shaking her head. _Just go out and eat some dinner._  
  
She slipped on some soft shoes which she only wore around the ship and walked to their small kitchen.  
  
Kanan had already set two plates down at their small metal table in the kitchen, along with a steaming mug of caf. He had chosen her favorite mug – a large chipped purple one which was one of the few luxuries she had allowed herself when she left Ryloth.  
  
Kanan was facing away from her, filling his own mug of caf. He was still wearing his mud-encrusted clothes from their mission. Hera tugged at her sleepshirt, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.  
  
His eyes widened a fraction when he saw her, but he recovered quickly. He sat down with his mug of caf.  
  
“I made your favorite – hot protein rations,” he gestured at the plates.  
  
Hera groaned as she took her seat at the table, across from Kanan.  
  
“We need to start taking better-paying jobs,” she said. “I need more options.”  
  
“Righteous causes don’t offer many opportunities for fine dining,” Kanan said, his solemn tone belied by a slight twitch up in the corner of his mouth.  
  
They were joking, but it was true. They did need more credits. Pretty much everything they made went to keeping the _Ghost_ ready and running, with barely enough left over for their own basic needs.  
  
Successfully fighting the Empire would also require better funding. The missions they were taking now were small, and they were at best just inconveniencing their imperial targets. If they had more credits, they wouldn’t need to take as many unrelated odd jobs, they could choose their missions with more focus…  
  
“You’ve got that look again,” Kanan said, bringing Hera back to herself.  
  
“What look?” she asked.  
  
“The look you get when you’re planning something,” Kanan said with a smile. “It’s kind of like this.”  
  
He mimicked her unfocused stare, an exaggerated furrow in his brow.  
  
“I’m going to throw this hot protein mush at you,” Hera said.  
  
“More food for me,” Kanan said with a smile. It was one of her favorite of his smiles, a crooked grin. He gave that smile when he was teasing her, trying to make her laugh. Her heart pounded uncomfortably in her chest when he looked at her like that.  
  
She smiled back, trying not to let her cheeks flush, then ducked down to look at her food a bit more intently than was probably necessary.  
  
“We do need to think about our next move,” Hera said. Bring it back to business, Syndulla. “We may want to get away from Lothal for a bit.”  
  
Their trip had involved confiscating some medical supplies intended for the imperial infirmary, and sabotaging some speeders on the side for good measure. It had been pouring rain all day, one of Lothal’s rare strong storms, making the field outside the capital where refugees sheltered slick with mud.  
  
It was a small act, but Hera loved being able to help people, loved bringing them hope as well as tangible supplies. She loved seeing Kanan smile when he dropped on his knees to say hello to a shy little girl, despite the mud and the rain.  
  
“We’ll figure it out,” Kanan said, with easy confidence.  
  
_We._ The two of them. Kanan and Hera.  
  
Well, three of them when you counted Chopper.  
  
She swallowed her meal without really tasting it, relishing in the simplicity of the evening, the ease she felt when she was alone with Kanan.  
  
The mission came first. The mission always came first.  
  
But that didn’t mean she had to fight alone. And sometimes, very occasionally, she could allow herself to just be a young woman with her droid on a starship, having dinner with a beautiful boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately I am a big romantic and these two own me. This will be a series of vignettes about how our Space Parents fell in love and started their family. The rest of the _Ghost_ crew will show up in time, but the first few chapters will focus on Hera and Kanan.  
>   
> Chapter title comes a Paramore song I really loved in high school.


	2. The ghost of you keeps me awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan has a nightmare. Hera brings him back.  
>   
> Set a few days after chapter 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some minor angst but nothing too serious. You need the angst to get to the fluff!

The nightmare woke her up before Kanan started screaming.  
  
It was an old dream. She was flying the _Ghost_ in a planet’s atmosphere when the engines cut out. She screamed for Chopper, for Kanan, but no one answered. She couldn’t move from her seat. Hera realized suddenly that all the buttons were unfamiliar, that she didn’t know how to stop the ship from plummeting to the ground even if she could. She wasn’t flying anymore, just falling, the rocks of an unfriendly planet rushing forward to meet her.  
  
Hera woke with a start and sat up in her bunk, shaking. She hadn’t had that dream in ages. The sense of powerlessness she felt, the knowledge that she was completely alone and there was nothing she could do…  
  
The residual anxiety of the dream settled around her in the dark like a shroud. She decided to head to the kitchen for a cup of tea, not because she really wanted one, but because she suddenly felt trapped in this dark coffin of a room, and she was terrified of falling back asleep. Of falling in general.  
  
_It was just a dream_ , Hera told herself firmly as she left her room, slippers padding softly against the metal floor.  
  
She had just passed Kanan’s room while walking towards the kitchen when she heard him yell. It was a wordless, strangled cry, cut off before it could be completed. Hera walked the few feet back to Kanan’s room, standing outside of his door.  
  
“No!” he yelled, so loudly it made her jump back. “No, no, no, Master, please, no.”  
  
_Master._ His Jedi master?  
  
Hera hesitated. She had never entered Kanan’s room. He was just having a bad dream, he probably would be embarrassed if she woke him up.  
  
But she thought about her own dream, the loneliness she had felt, the helplessness. She wished someone – _Kanan,_ her traitorous heart whispered – had been there for her when she awoke.  
  
Hera squared her shoulders before opening the door. She would be there for him.  
  
Kanan was writhing in his sleep, his legs tangled in his sheets, his bare chest glistening with sweat.  
  
_He sleeps shirtless,_ the traitorous part of her whispered. _Shut up,_ the rest of her replied.  
  
His hair was out of its customary ponytail, drawing dark brown curtains over his face, his jaw clenched as if in pain.  
  
“No, no, no,” he moaned again. Hera softly walked to Kanan’s bed and knelt by his side.  
  
“Kanan,” she whispered. He stayed asleep, his body contorting like he was trying to jump out of his own skin.  
  
“Kanan,” she repeated, louder this time. She placed her hand on his forearm and gave a gentle shake.  
  
Suddenly she was thrown across the room, her back hitting the wall with a thud. Kanan was standing now, wild-eyed, his hand outstretched. Hera realized belatedly that he had pushed her using the Force.  
  
“Who’s there?” Kanan shouted hoarsely, shifting into a fighting stance. His hand went to his side, as if to grab a lightsaber from its holster.  
  
“Kanan,” Hera gasped, her hand against the wall as she helped herself stand. “It’s me. It’s Hera.”  
  
Kanan blinked and that wild-eyed look was gone, replaced with an expression of horror. He ran the few feet across the room over to her, grabbing her shoulders.  
  
“Oh, kriff, Hera, I’m sorry,” he said, his words tripping out of his mouth in a panicked jumble. “I was dreaming, I didn’t know it was you, I forgot where I was – “  
  
“It’s okay,” Hera said, looking up into Kanan’s anguished turquoise eyes. His hair was sticking up at odd angles in the back. He looked younger, more vulnerable, his expression desperate and almost lost.  
  
“Did I – did I hurt you?” he whispered.  
  
“I’m fine,” she said. “You just surprised me. Are you okay?”  
  
“Am I okay?” Kanan let go of her shoulders and stepped back. He let out a sharp, slightly hysterical laugh. “I just threw you across the room and you’re asking me if _I’m_ okay?”  
  
“It’s a small room. And it was an accident,” Hera said, pushing herself away from the wall to stand up straight again. The throw had knocked the wind out of her, but she was unharmed. Maybe Kanan had even known it was her subconsciously. She’d seen what he could do – he could’ve used a lot more power.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Hera,” Kanan said, still looking away, unable to meet her eyes. “I promise you, it will never happen again.”  
  
“I know,” Hera said, and she found that she really believed him. “I was just going to make some tea in the kitchen. Come have a cup with me.”  
Kanan turned fully away from her, facing his bunk. His shoulders were hunched, like he was trying to make himself smaller.  
  
“I – shouldn’t,” he said, voice small.  
  
“Yes, you should,” Hera said. She walked over to him and tugged his arm gently, pulling him around to look at her. “Have some tea with me.”  
He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand.  
  
“Okay, just – give me a minute,” he whispered. He glanced at her, finally making eye contact for a brief second, before lowering his gaze away from her again.  
  
“One minute, then,” Hera said. Kanan smiled at her weakly.  
  
She left his room and made her way to the kitchen, heart thudding in her chest. This was turning out to be an extremely strange night.  
  
She was pouring hot tea into two mugs when Kanan padded into the kitchen. He had put on a shirt and smoothed his hair into a ponytail, but he was still barefoot, and he still had that soft, vulnerable look on his face.  
  
Hera set the two mugs on the table.  
  
“Sit,” she said. Kanan sighed as he complied.  
  
“Hera, I’m – “  
  
“I know you’re sorry, Kanan,” she said firmly. “And I forgive you.”  
  
Hera impulsively reached over the table and took Kanan’s left hand, which was resting next to his mug. He looked up at her, surprised.  
  
“I forgive you, Kanan,” she repeated.  
  
He blinked rapidly, looking away from her again. She squeezed his hand once before retracting it again. She felt the absence of his warmth the second she let go of his hand, so she compensated by grabbing her still-steaming cup of tea and taking a sip.  
  
They sat there in silence for a few moments, Hera occasionally taking sips from her mug. Kanan hadn’t touched his tea, and she didn’t think he was going to say or do anything else when he spoke suddenly.  
  
“I was dreaming about my master. The last time I saw her,” he said, uttering the words slowly as if they hurt to speak out loud. “The clone soldiers – turned on us. We didn’t know why. And my master…” Kanan trailed off for a few seconds, looking into the distance, into a vision of the past only he could see.  
  
“My master told me to run,” he finally said quietly. “So I ran.”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Kanan,” Hera said.  
  
He shook his head and stared at his cup of tea. He picked it up and took a sip, as if suddenly realizing it was there.  
  
“Thanks for the tea,” he said. Hera knew he was done talking about the past for tonight.  
  
That was alright. She could wait. They would just sit and drink tea for now and then, someday, maybe they'd be able to talk about Kanan's past. Maybe she'd be able to tell him about her own nightmare, her own regrets.  
  
“You’re welcome,” she said.  
  
They finished their tea together in companionable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter just one day later! (It's because my job is currently making me miserable and writing this makes me far happier than oh, you know, doing actual work.) I can't promise the next chapter will come this quickly, but I'll try to keep to a semi-regular updating schedule!  
>   
> Chapter title comes from the song "Ghost" by Ella Henderson. Yes, I will make every chapter title ghost-related, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me. (Mwahaha.)  
>   
> Comments and kudos extremely appreciated!


	3. Ghosts with just voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a mission for Fulcrum, Kanan has an uncomfortable encounter with a face from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially going to be one chapter, but it got too big so I split it into two. This takes place a few months after chapter two.  
>   
> TW: Minor description of past trauma and some alcohol use.

Kanan didn’t believe in miracles.  
  
As a youngling at the Jedi Temple, Kanan had been taught that the Force was the cause of many of the so-called “miracles” observed throughout the galaxy. Those who weren’t sensitive could be witnessing the actions of an unseen Jedi, or just the Force making its will known in magnificent coincidences.  
  
The point is, everything had an explanation, even if that explanation was just a vague admonition to “trust in the Force.”  
  
But Kanan didn’t have an explanation for Hera Syndulla. She wasn’t Force-sensitive, but she had an unmistakable signature, an aura of brightness that he couldn’t ignore, even though he had tried for so long to dull his connection to the Force. He didn’t understand how she could have so much hope, despite witnessing the atrocities of the Empire firsthand. He didn’t understand how she could believe in people, in a brighter future, when she was surrounded by so much darkness.  
  
“You’re a miracle,” he told Hera, who was standing in front of him at the bar, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in disapproval.  
  
Of course, he had been drinking steadily for the past five hours, so the words came out more like “yer a merrr.”  
  
“I’m sorry?” Hera said icily.  
  
“Merrracle,” Kanan repeated, noticing vaguely that the word wasn’t coming out quite right.  
  
“Okay, that’s enough. We’re leaving,” Hera said. She turned around and exited the small, dusty cantina, not even looking behind her to make sure Kanan was following.  
  
He stood up unsteadily and slapped a handful of credits on the counter. He followed Hera out of the cantina and squinted as he stepped out into daylight. Hera had waited for him outside of the cantina, her face composed into a careful mask to hide her emotions. But Kanan could still feel them, even through the haze of the alcohol, anger and disappointment pulsating through the Force.  
  
“’m sorry,” he mumbled.  
  
“We’re going back to the _Ghost_. You’re going to sober up and I’m going to get us off Bonadan. And when you’re _ready_ ,” Hera said, her anger seeping into the word, “We are going to have a talk.”  


* * *

  
It was an unusual mission, and Kanan privately hadn’t been sure it was worth the travel. Hera had been told by her mysterious anti-Empire contact to head to Bonadan. They would meet with an agent there who had knowledge about imperial movements on the Hydian Way, one of the major hyperspace routes. There was no stealing involved, no sabotage, no opportunity to make a few credits – just a meeting.  
  
“Fuel’s getting low,” Kanan noted as they landed at the spaceport. “We’ll need to get more while we’re here.”  
  
Hera stood up from her pilot’s seat and raised her arms above her head. Kanan allowed himself the briefest glance at the curve of her back as she stretched, her eyes closed. Force, she was beautiful.  
  
“Good thing we’re at the top of a major hyperspace route then,” Hera said drily. Bonadan was a small Outer Rim planet, but its proximity to the Hydian Way made it a semi-busy fueling station for travelers. Even though the Empire had a grip on the sector, Bonadan was far enough from the core that it wasn’t crawling with Imps.  
  
“Stay here, Chop,” Hera told her droid, who beeped angrily in response. “We need someone to guard the ship.”  
  
Chopper grumbled what Kanan suspected was a series of curse words disguised by beeps and boops. Kanan knew logically that astromechs didn’t really have facial expressions, but he felt Chopper glaring at his back as they left the ship.  
  
The meeting point was a small, dusty cantina, which mainly serviced visitors to the planet just stopping by for a fix or a fuel-up before continuing on their journeys. It reminded Kanan too much of the cantinas he frequented in the early years after the Empire was formed, when the easiest solution to cutting himself off from the Force – from the universe – could be found at the bottom of a bottle.  
  
Since joining Hera, he hadn’t gotten lost in bars and cantinas like before. For one thing, the work kept him too busy. But he also felt like he didn’t need the alcohol as much while he was with her. Being around Hera, having a purpose, made it easier to simply survive without needing to numb himself from the Force. That was all Kanan had done for the past ten years, all he had cared about: survival.  
  
He had never been too Bonadan before, but his skin crawled with familiarity as they entered the cantina. There was a central bar tended by a droid, and several grimy tables against the wall. Kanan did a quick scan of the cantina’s clientele – just a few lifeforms, mostly drinking alone, no Imps. Hera led them to an empty corner booth.  
  
“The contact is supposed to meet us at this table soon,” Hera said. They had sidled in a bench on the same side of the booth, their backs to the wall, both so that they could keep an eye on the door and so their contact could take the seat opposite. Kanan’s anxiety was heightened by his proximity to Hera, their thighs almost touching. He kept his hand on his blaster in the holster on his hip, the cool metal of it comforting against his palms.  
  
“Are you alright?” Hera asked. Kanan hadn’t realized she was looking at him.  
  
“Yeah,” he said. “I just…have a bad feeling about this.”  
  
The door to the cantina opened and a humanoid man entered, wearing armor and a Mandalorian-style helmet. He noticed the two of them in the corner booth and sauntered over.  
  
“Fulcrum send you?” the man asked gruffly. His voice was oddly familiar.  
  
Hera nodded. The man sat down and signaled to the bartending droid for a drink, before taking off his helmet and placing it on the table.  
  
He was older and more lined than the men Kanan had served with, but his features were unmistakable.  
  
It was a clone.  
  
Kanan suddenly felt like the volume of the planet had been dialed down, the conversations of the cantina patrons fuzzy while his heart seemed to beat impossibly loud. It was as if he had been sucked into vacuum; he couldn’t breathe. Panic set in as he realized the disadvantages of their chosen seat – he was pinned in by the walls of the cantina at his back and left and Hera at his right.  
  
“Hera, we have to go,” Kanan said, finally regaining his voice as the droid placed a dusty bottle of a brown liquid on the table.  
  
“Why?” she asked, frowning.  
  
“He can’t be trusted,” Kanan said through gritted teeth.  
  
“It’s because I’m a clone,” the man sitting across from them said easily. Kanan hated how comfortable the clone looked, a faint sardonic smile playing on his lips.  
  
“You all work for the Empire,” Kanan said, a little too loudly. A few of the other patrons in the cantina looked up disinterestedly before returning to their drinks. Whatever conversation the three of them were having, it wasn’t one that the other lifeforms in the bar wanted to get involved in.  
  
The clone laughed, a short bark with no amusement.  
  
“Where have you been for the past few years, kid? The Empire decommissioned us. Some of us carried on as storm troopers, but most of my brothers are dead,” the clone said.  
  
Kanan flinched at the word “brothers.” Long ago, he had almost thought of the clones he served with as his brothers. He remembered laughing with Grey and Styles, trading jokes and stories around the fire during their downtime on Kaller. And he remembered just a few hours later, when he watched as they murdered his master with no hesitation. How many Jedi had this clone killed?  
  
Hera put a calming hand on Kanan’s forearm.  
  
“I share my associate’s concerns,” she said, her voice even. “How do I know you can be trusted, and that you have the information I need?”  
  
The clone shrugged.  
  
“I worked at the Imperial Academy on Eriadu for a bit, helping coordinate supplies from the Rimma Trade Route and the Hydian Way,” he said. “You can pick up a lot working on the docks.”  
  
“And what, the Empire just let you walk away for a nice retirement?” Kanan scoffed. The clone eyed him shrewdly.  
  
“The Empire would rather everyone forget that the clones ever existed. We’re living reminders of the Republic, created as part of the plan to help end it,” the clone said, his voice lowering. “We fulfilled our purpose and they cast us aside. I’m one of the few who’s still alive, and no one cares about another forgotten clone. So yes, I left, and no one tried to stop me.”  
  
“That’s a tragic story, but forgive me if I don’t trust a man who murdered his generals,” Kanan said sarcastically. Hera shot him a warning glance, but didn’t say anything. He knew he was dangerously close to revealing his own history, but he didn’t care.  
  
The clone scowled, but Kanan suddenly sensed a mild fog of confusion emanating from the clone, as if the clone’s own knowledge of the massacre was hazy.  
  
“Good soldiers follow orders. We were ordered to kill the Jedi by the emperor himself,” he said, taking a swig of his drink. “So we killed the Jedi. And we paid for it.”  
  
“I think we’ve done enough talking about the past,” Hera interrupted. “Tell us what you know.”  
  
Kanan couldn’t concentrate on the subsequent conversation between Hera and the clone. He kept his hand gripped on his blaster, gazing straight ahead. He could only hear the pounding of his heart, the laughter of Grey and Styles around the fire, and the voice of his master telling him to leave, over and over again. _You must run. Go. I’ll be right behind you._  
  
It felt like hours until the clone left, although it was probably only a few minutes. Kanan stopped himself from pulling out his blaster and shooting the clone in the back with difficulty.  
  
“Are you alright?” Hera asked, quietly.  
  
“How do you know he won’t give us away to the Empire?” Kanan said through gritted teeth, still staring at the door through which the clone left.  
  
“I don’t. But I don’t think he will. He feels like the Empire betrayed him, too,” Hera said thoughtfully. She placed her hand on his arm again, and he looked at her, noticing the concern in her green eyes.  
  
“I’m going to get some supplies and fuel up. Come with me?” she asked. He shook his head.  
  
“No, I – I think I’ll stay here for a bit. Clear my head,” Kanan said.  
  
Hera’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t say anything. She squeezed his arm before getting up and leaving the cantina.  
  
Kanan sighed as the bartending droid swiped the clone’s discarded bottle. He headed to the small bar, sitting down at one of the stools as the droid returned to his post.  
  
“Can I get you anything, sir?” the droid asked, its mechanical voice all too reminiscent of the Separatist droids he fought in the final months of the Clone Wars.  
  
“Get me the strongest drink you have,” he said tiredly. “And keep it coming.”  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut, as if to block out his master’s voice, the sight of the clone’s familiar brown eyes.  
  
Kanan opened his eyes as the droid placed a glass full of clear liquid in front of him. He downed it in one swallow. He probably was imagining the droid’s vague disapproval as it poured him another glass.  
  
The voice of his master echoed in his head. There was only one way to quiet it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, okay! I definitely took some creative liberties here, but hey, that's the prerogative of fanfiction. There's no mention of an Imperial Academy on Eriadu, but I think it's reasonable to assume there might be one, as it's the home planet of Moff Tarkin. Bonadan isn't really described in any media that I could find, making it the perfect blank slate for my dusty cantina.  
>   
> I didn't give the clone a name on purpose, although it made me sad to do so. We're looking at the situation through Kanan's eyes, and due to the trauma he has experienced, Kanan can only see him as another clone and not a man. We see his thinking on clones evolve in "Rebels," when he becomes friends with Rex.  
>   
> My personal headcanon is that clones who didn't have their chips removed, who had never even heard about the chips, didn't know why they received Order 66. They just carried it out, because "good soldiers follow orders." But I can imagine the surviving clones would become embittered towards the Empire, particularly since they were decommissioned. I think would clones would recognized that they had been tools, ill-used and discarded, even if they didn't really know the details.  
>   
> I'll try to update again in the next couple of days. Can't wait for that ~talk~ with Kanan and Hera! There's gonna be feels.  
>   
> Chapter title comes from "Set Fire to the Third Bar," another vaguely emo song I was obsessed with in high school. Ah, youth.  
>   
> As always, kudos and comments are extremely appreciated! Thank you so much for going on this journey with me. <3


	4. The ghost in the mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan finally tells Hera about his past. Hera reacts differently than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a long one, but the conversation between Kanan and Hera demanded the space.  
>   
> TW: Discussion of trauma and alcohol use.

Waking up with a hangover was an all too familiar sensation for Kanan. There was the sour taste in his mouth, the pounding headache that made the fluorescent lights seem unbearably bright and the mundane whirring of a ship seem far too loud.  
  
Worst of all was the sense of shame that clung to him like a shroud. He thought of the disappointment Master Billaba would feel if she saw him now, if she realized how unworthy her apprentice was of her sacrifice. That guilt was now compounded by the knowledge that he had let down Hera. She believed in him, for whatever reason, and he had proved her mistake.  
  
He opened his eyes slowly, realizing that he had passed out on top of his bedsheets, still wearing his clothes and shoes. He groaned slightly as he sat up, stretching out the kinks in his shoulders.  
  
He knew that he had to talk to Hera, had to apologize and offer to leave the _Ghost_. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror in his room – red eyes, hair mussed, the reek of stale alcohol emanating from his clothes – and determined that he needed a shower before he could do anything. She couldn’t see him like this.  
  
He stumbled across the hall to the refresher. Kriff, why were the lights so bright? The _Ghost_ had a surprisingly good shower. Kanan didn’t usually use hot water, knowing it was a decadence they could ill-afford, but he turned the temperature all the way up to scalding, as If the pressure and heat could burn the sins from his skin.  
  
The mirror was fogged when he stepped out of the shower, so he scrubbed it with his hand. The face in the streaky reflection before him was thin, tired, but relatively presentable. He rinsed out his mouth until he could no longer taste yesterday’s alcohol.  
  
After putting on fresh clothes, he headed to the cockpit. There was the lounge, and the kitchen, and Hera’s own room, but he knew she felt most comfortable in the pilot’s seat, looking out into the stars. Even when Hera wasn’t flying the ship, she would sit in her chair, gazing into space with a soft smile.  
  
Chopper beeped angrily when Kanan entered the cockpit. Kanan vaguely remembered calling the droid a “stupid bucket” and then laughing hysterically upon reentering the ship. This probably did not endear him to Chopper, who already hated him.  
  
“Be quiet, Chop,” Hera said from the pilot’s seat. They were in hyperspace, but presumably it would be a long trip to wherever they were going, given that Bonadan was at the edge of the galaxy.  
  
“Where are we headed?” Kanan asked.  
  
“Llanic system. Rumor has it that a smuggler on Llanic stole some high-grade Imperial weaponry, and is looking for a buyer,” Hera said. She was still in her chair, facing away from him.  
  
“I take it we won’t be buying,” Kanan said.  
  
“More like borrowing,” Hera replied, and Kanan could hear the mischievous smile in her voice.  
  
“Did you get the information the – the operative on Bonadan gave you to your contact?” Kanan asked hesitantly.  
  
“Yes,” Hera said quietly. She rose from her chair and finally turned to face him. “Are you ready to talk?”  
  
“Yes,” Kanan said.  
  
“Let’s go to the kitchen. I could use a cup of caf, and you probably could too,” Hera said, eyeing his somewhat disheveled appearance. Kanan was very glad that he had chosen to take a shower before coming to see her.  
  
Hera turned on the caf machine in the kitchen, while Kanan took a protein bar from the cupboard and put it on a plate. He rooted around until he found a packet of hot sauce, then ripped open the packet with his teeth and poured its content on the unseasoned block of protein.  
  
“That’s disgusting,” Hera said. Kanan shrugged.  
  
“Hangover cure. Kasmir – the Kalleran whose ship I joined after my master died – taught it to me,” Kanan said.  
  
They sat down at the table, Hera placing the mugs of caf in front of them. Kanan suddenly found that he was unable to look her in the eye.  
  
“When you joined my crew, I told you that the mission always comes first,” Hera said.  
  
“I know,” Kanan responded, eyes fixed on his steaming mug of caf.  
  
“I told you that I needed someone I could trust, someone who wouldn’t get lost in a cantina after every job. You promised me that you would be reliable,” Hera continued.  
  
Kanan closed his eyes, feeling shame wash over him.  
  
“I know,” he whispered.  
  
“Kanan, you kept your promise,” Hera said. Kanan looked up at her in shock. She wasn’t looking at him with disgust, or with anger, but with genuine concern.  
  
“You’ve been a better partner than I ever could have expected,” Hera said. “You’ve been on this ship almost a year now, and you’ve proved that I can trust you. So what happened on Bonadan that made you more like the man I met on Gorse than the man I know now?”  
  
Kanan sighed and took a sip of his caf. He was stalling, but Hera waited quietly, that look of genuine concern on her face.  
  
"I was a Jedi padawan during the Clone Wars. My master, Depa Billaba, was killed by the clones we served with when the purge happened. I still don’t know why all the clones turned on the Jedi.”  
  
Kanan paused, realizing that he had never told anyone about his life. Before he could stop it, the words started spilling out of his mouth. It was like a dam had broken, and all the truths he had worked so hard to forget were now flooding out into the open.  
  
“I didn’t know my birth family. The Jedi found me when I was young, so they raised me in the Jedi temple. They were my family,” he said. “I was – a bit different from the other younglings. I didn’t make friends easily, and I was always asking too many questions of the Jedi masters.”  
  
Hera smiled softly. “That doesn’t surprise me,” she said.  
  
“My Master, Depa Billaba, was a bit like me. She experienced a defeat on Haruun Kal before she asked me to be her padawan, and my peers thought she was damaged goods. But I felt a connection to her. It was like we were both a little bit broken, so when I became her padawan learner, it seemed like the perfect fit,” Kanan said.  
  
He paused to take a bite of his protein bar, appreciating the burn of the hot sauce as it went down his throat, followed by another sip of caf.  
  
“The bond between a master and her padawan is hard to explain. It’s more than just teacher and apprentice, but not parental either. It’s kind of like, well, there’s this person who is teaching you, but they also mean everything to you. You obey them, but you also trust them, and they trust you,” Kanan sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m not explaining this very well.”  
  
“I think I understand. I met a few Jedi when I was a child on Ryloth. They had this kind of attachment to each other, like they understood what the other person was thinking without needing to speak,” Hera said. “It seemed like magic to me at the time.”  
  
Kanan nodded.  
  
“Jedi are taught that attachment is forbidden. But that doesn’t mean you can’t care for someone, just that you have to be able to let them go when the will of the Force demands it,” Kanan said. He remembered his master’s words to him on Kaller. _You must guard your heart, Caleb. Your emotions can be a strength if you guide them, but they will be your weakness if you let them guide you._  
  
“I was 14 when we went to the front,” Kanan continued. “In normal times, padawans would be much older, but so many Jedi were killed in the Clone Wars that they started making younglings padawans earlier and earlier.”  
  
“You were a child,” Hera said. Kanan shook his head.  
  
“I was a soldier. I liked being on the front, and fighting for what I believed was right. I felt like I had finally found my place in the galaxy, fighting alongside my master and the clone soldiers, my brothers in arms,” Kanan said. He closed his eyes, not wanting to voice what happened next. He felt Hera reach across the table and rest her hand on his.  
  
“My master and I had just finished training together when everything changed,” he said, his eyes still closed. He remembered feeling the slaughter of Jedi throughout the galaxy through the Force. “At first, I couldn’t fight the clones, even when they attacked us. I couldn’t understand what had happened.”  
  
Kanan remembered the whir of lightsabers against clone armor, the smell of singed flesh, the men he had considered friends falling to the ground by his and his master’s hands. He took a shaky inhale.  
  
“We were surrounded. Master Billaba told me to run while she would fight them off. She said she’d be right behind me,” Kanan said, feeling the tears begin to prick out from between his closed eyelids. “I knew she was lying. I knew I would never see her again. And I ran away anyway.”  
  
“Kanan, look at me,” Hera said. He opened his eyes, which were blurred with tears. The look of concern was still on Hera’s face, but also echoes of that firm, steely expression she wore when flying through Imperial territory or negotiating with smugglers.  
  
“You were a child. Okay, a soldier, but also a child. Your men turned on you with no explanation. Your master told you to run because she believed in you. You did the right thing,” Hera said firmly, squeezing his hand. “You did the right thing, Kanan. Your master wanted you to survive, and you did.”  
  
Kanan shook his head and laughed softly. He pulled his hand away from Hera’s.  
  
“Look at me now, Hera. I’m a smuggler and a drunk. I’ve killed more people than I’ve saved,” Kanan said. “My master was a great warrior, a great thinker, a great Jedi. She contributed far more to the galaxy than I ever could. It would have been better for everyone if she had survived, not me.”  
  
He took another steadying sip of his caf, which was now lukewarm and even more disgusting than usual.  
  
“Not everyone,” Hera said quietly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It wouldn’t have been better for everyone if you hadn’t survived,” Hera repeated, a bit louder. “It’s better for me that you followed your master’s orders, that you did survive.”  
  
Kanan stared at her. Hadn’t she heard everything he just said? He wasn’t worthy of his master’s sacrifice, and he had proved that time and time again.  
  
“Hera, you could find someone to replace me on the _Ghost_ in a moment. Someone better, someone with a less complicated past, someone – ”  
  
“That’s not true,” Hera interrupted, her voice heated. “I couldn’t find a better partner than you, because that person doesn’t exist.”  
  
They sat for a minute in shocked silence, Hera’s words settling in the air. Her face was slightly flushed, but she still had that look of determination.  
  
“You are a good man, Kanan,” she said, her voice calmer but still trembling with an undercurrent of emotion. “You are a good man and you deserve to be alive. You deserve to be happy.”  
  
Kanan realized that his mouth was open in surprise, and shut it quickly. Could she really believe that? Hera sighed and leaned back in her chair.  
  
“You’re very stubborn, you know that?” she said, rubbing a hand over her eyes.  
  
“Yes,” he replied dumbly.  
  
“That was a rhetorical question, but I’m glad you’re aware,” Hera said with a huff of laughter.  
  
They sat quietly as Kanan ate his protein bar, feeling extremely self-conscious as Hera looked at him with that odd mixture of concern and exasperation.  
  
“Thank you for telling me, Kanan,” Hera said finally, her voice soft. “Thank you for trusting me with your past.”  
  
Kanan nodded. This conversation had gone very differently than he had expected.  
  
“Get some more rest. I’m going to check our coordinates,” Hera said as she stood up. She stopped just before walking past him, resting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Don’t scare me like that again,” she said softly. Kanan realized suddenly that the anger she had shown outside the cantina was motivated by concern for his wellbeing, not disappointment in his failure.  
  
Kanan was looking down at his half-empty cup of caf when Hera pressed a light kiss on the crown of his head. Even though her lips had barely brushed his hair, he felt like a jolt of electricity had coursed through his body.  
  
Kanan looked up, tired and extremely confused, but Hera was already walking out of the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Ahhhh this was so hard to write! My heart was breaking for Kanan as I wrote it. The tag "Kanan Jarrus Needs A Hug" has never been more appropriate. Deets come from the _Kanan 2_ comic book, but the quote from Master Billaba is mine.  
>   
> This is an exposition-heavy chapter, but I tried to make it feel as natural as possible. In a real conversation, you have trouble explaining things, you say things awkwardly. And, if you're Kanan, you act like a bit of an idiot when the girl you have a crush on tells you that you're worthy of being alive. (Poor Kanan.)  
>   
> (Kasmir's hangover cure is actually my mom's hangover cure, which instead of caf and hot sauce on a protein bar is strong black coffee and hot sauce on scrambled eggs.)  
>   
> Kudos and comments fill my heart with joy! I'd love to know what you thought of this chapter.


	5. Message from a ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan shows Hera the relics of his past. Chopper really doesn't like Kanan.

Things had been different since Kanan had told Hera about his past. Better. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t enjoyed his company before, Hera thought as steered the _Ghost_ down onto an unassuming patch of grassland on Lothal. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t trusted him with her life during previous jobs, or hadn’t thought about kissing him breathless after a particularly adrenaline-filled mission…  
  
Hera shook her head vigorously. _Snap out of it, you’re landing a ship here._ She knew she could land the _Ghost_ on Lothal with her eyes closed, but still.  
  
“You alright?” Kanan asked from the co-pilot’s seat next to her, amused.  
  
“Uh, yeah. Neck cramp,” Hera said lamely, shaking her head again for good measure. _Smooth, Syndulla._  
  
The point was, something had changed between the two of them in the weeks since their conversation. Kanan was less guarded, and quicker to smile – a real smile, soft and crooked, not the cocky grin he would adopt on a job.  
  
He had even joined her in the lounge one evening to watch an old Republic-era holodrama, one of the few that had survived the Empire’s purge. It was a ridiculous romance about the hidden love between a spice miner and the Twi’lek wife of a crime syndicate boss, and Kanan and Hera had enjoyed roundly mocking it together.  
  
(Kanan had also gone on a brief rant about the stereotyping of Twi’lek females in media, which had just further endeared him to Hera.  
  
“I just don’t know why they always make Twi’lek women helpless slaves in these things,” Kanan said, his words slightly muddled by a mouth full of popcorn.  
  
“You’re talking to the expert,” Hera had replied drily.)  
  
Before their conversation, they had been crewmates, allies, partners. Now, they were genuinely friends.  
  
Hera stood up, listening to the familiar sounds of the _Ghost_ cooling down after a landing.  
  
“We made good time – Vizago isn’t supposed to meet us here for a couple of hours,” Hera said.  
  
Hera didn’t like dealing with the Devaronian crime lord, but he usually had good intel and paid relatively well for smuggling jobs. They needed the credits after expending so much fuel getting away after the Llanic job, and Vizago would give them a good bargain for the Imperial munitions they had taken.  
  
“We probably have time for a game or two of dejarik – or, knowing how terrible you are, three games,” Hera said with a grin as Kanan stood up from his seat. Kanan truly was embarrassingly bad at holochess, so winning a game against him wasn’t exactly a big victory, but defeating him in record time never got old for Hera.  
  
“Ha, no thanks, I’ll save the humiliation for another time,” Kanan said. He was smiling, but Hera could tell there was something weighing on him. He was looking down at the floor and shifting his weight from foot to foot.  
  
“Kanan – ”  
  
“There’s something I want to show you,” Kanan said quickly, before Hera could finish her sentence. He looked up at her, almost shyly, and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, one of his biggest tells for when he was nervous.  
  
“Okay,” Hera said.  
  
“It’s, uh, in my room,” Kanan said, and Hera didn’t think she was imagining the faint flush that crept over his neck and cheeks. She hadn’t been in his room since the nightmare.  
  
“Okay,” Hera said again. “Lead the way.”  
  
Kanan huffed a small, embarrassed laugh and exited the cockpit. Chopper beeped at Hera as she followed him.  
  
“I don’t know, Chop,” Hera said quietly. Chopper beeped again, loudly and somehow even more aggressively. He was not exactly Kanan’s biggest fan.  
  
“Chopper, I’m sure it’s not dangerous,” Hera whispered. Kanan seemed to have heard her, because he looked over his shoulder with a faint smile.  
  
“I’m not leading Hera into danger, Chopper, don't worry,” Kanan said as he opened the door to his room. Chopper crowded into the room behind Kanan and Hera, giving an aggrieved beep.  
  
“Chop, wait outside,” Hera said, ignoring the droid’s protesting. He grumbled, unleashing curse words in a series of beeps and boops as he left Kanan’s room.  
  
“He’s protective,” Hera said, as if Kanan hadn’t been living with the droid for a year now.  
  
“I’ve noticed,” Kanan said drily.  
  
He cleared his throat. Hera suddenly realized that they were alone, no droid and no mission to get between them, and in Kanan’s room. Kanan indicated for her to sit, so Hera perched awkwardly on the side of his bunk.  
  
Kanan knelt down and opened the hidden compartment beneath his bunk. He grabbed one of the two objects in the compartment, a compact little cube with intricate designs.  
  
“This is a Jedi holocron,” he said, sitting next to her on the bunk and holding the cube in his left hand. “My master gave it to me before she died. She hoped it would help provide answers to my questions about the order.”  
  
Kanan let go of the cube, and instead of falling onto the bedsheets below, it remained suspended in the air, spinning slowly.  
  
“After Master Billaba died, I tried to get back to Coruscant, to the Jedi temple. On my way there, I received a transmission from Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Kanan said.  
  
The cube began to twist and separate in mid-air, revealing a glowing hologram of a bearded man in Jedi robes.  
  
_“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen with a dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place,”_ the man said. _“This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi. Trust in The Force. Do not return to the Temple, that time has passed. And our future is uncertain.”_  
  
The man in the hologram, Master Kenobi, seemed both heartbroken and hopeful, his gentle smile belying a great loss that weighed on his heart.  
  
_“We will each be challenged. Our trust. Our faith. Our friendships. But we must persevere. And in time, a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you, always,”_ the message concluded, and the hologram of Master Kenobi faded.  
  
“I’ve heard of Master Kenobi,” Hera said softly. “He fought with my father on Ryloth during the Clone Wars.”  
  
Another part of Kenobi’s message clicked with Hera.  
  
“Wait, you said you got this message while you were on your way to Coruscant? Didn’t he just say not to return to the temple?” Hera asked. Kanan laughed softly.  
  
“Yeah, that was a fun time. I made it to Coruscant and had to immediately escape. But I later downloaded Master Kenobi’s message onto my holocron,” he said. He flicked his hand, and the holocron opened a small holographic map of the Lothal system. “A holocron doesn’t just hold messages. It stores data. There’s maps of the entire galaxy in here, and other knowledge gathered by the Jedi.”  
  
“Kanan, this is incredible,” Hera said softly. She reached out on instinct as if to touch it, but it suddenly folded back into an ordinary cube and dropped into Kanan’s hand.  
  
“Only a Force-wielder can open it,” he said with a rueful smile.  
  
“This is incredible, Kanan. We can use this knowledge to supplement our own intel on the old Republic and maps of the galaxy!” Hera said, her enthusiasm undimmed by the news that she could not handle the cube personally.  
  
Kanan’s smile widened into a proud grin.  
  
“I knew you would like it,” he said. He reached down to the compartment under the bunk between their legs and replaced the holocron. He picked up two odd metallic objects that seemed familiar to Hera, although she couldn’t quite place where she had seen such items before.  
  
Kanan pressed the longer and shorter pieces together with a click, and Hera recognized the object with a gasp.  
  
“Is that a lightsaber?” she asked, her voice hushed in awe.  
  
“Yes. It’s my old lightsaber,” Kanan said. He gazed sorrowfully at the metal cylinder resting in the palms of his hands. “I disassembled it when I went on the run. I knew I should’ve gotten rid of it, that even keeping pieces of a lightsaber could put me in danger, but I couldn’t give it up.”  
  
“It’s a reminder of who you were,” Hera said softly. Kanan nodded.  
  
“A reminder of everything I’ve lost,” he said. He looked up at Hera, a slow smile playing on his lips. “And it’s a reminder of what I still have to fight for.”  
  
Hera could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she looked into Kanan’s soft turquoise eyes. They were so close, his face just inches from hers…  
  
“Can I hold it? Um, the lightsaber?” Hera said quickly, cutting the tension of the moment.  
  
“Uh, sure,” Kanan said, and he handed it to her. “Be careful.”  
  
Hera held the hilt an arm’s length in front of her and gently pressed the button on its side. She gasped as a bright blue laser shone with a whir.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her face breaking into a smile as she waved the saber gently in wonder.  
  
“It is,” Kanan said softly. She glanced over at him and realized with a jolt that his eyes were focused on her, and not the bright light of the saber. Hera clicked the button again and the beam retracted. She set the lightsaber down on the sheets between them.  
  
“Thank you for showing me,” she said, her throat suddenly dry.  
  
Kanan nodded. He was looking at her with a blazing intensity, and Hera wondered whether he could hear her heart beating. It seemed to her like it was pounding so loudly Chopper could probably hear it out in the hallway.  
  
“Hera,” Kanan whispered, placing his hand over hers where it rested between them on the bunk.  
  
_This is a bad idea,_ Hera thought. _This is a bad idea and there are several reasons for that, I just can’t remember them right now._  
  
Hera knew that Kanan would take his cues from her, that he would sit like this unmoving unless she decided to pull away, or to close the gap between them. Hera swallowed, and began slowly leaning towards him –  
  
And the doors of Kanan’s room open, revealing an irate and beeping Chopper. Kanan and Hera jumped apart, startled by the sudden intrusion, and Kanan quickly replaced his lightsaber in the cupboard. Hera stood up and walked away from Kanan, suddenly embarrassed.  
  
“What is it, Chop?” Hera asked, noticing that her voice was a bit higher than usual. She cleared her throat as Chopper recommenced his beeping.  
  
“Vizago’s early, and it looks like he’s been followed by a TIE,” Hera said, turning towards Kanan. He was now standing too, focused and alert, with only the barest flush in his cheeks. Kanan nodded.  
  
“Let’s give them a warm welcome,” he said, and abruptly walked out of his room and towards the direction of the gun turret.  
  
Hera paused for just a moment before hurrying to the cockpit. Her heart was pounding and her breath was unsteady, but it wasn’t because of Vizago or the Imperial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be real with y'all, I couldn't remember if the Specter crew knew Vizago before Ezra joined them, but we're just going to pretend that they did for the purposes of this chapter. Also, popcorn exists in the galaxy far, far away, because it's my fic and I can fluff if I want to! This was a lighter chapter, but I think we needed that after their big conversation from last chapter.  
>   
> Chopper is one of my favorite characters because he's such an asshole, and I really appreciate that. But it's just because he loves Hera so much and wants her to be safe! Also, as you can tell from this chapter, I'm a big fan of the "characters almost kiss but get interrupted at the last second" trope. I love writing from Hera's perspective - she's so tough but she has such a good sense of humor and an admirable wonder about the universe.  
>   
> We're going to see our beloved members of the Ghost crew start joining soon - probably in the next chapter or two. So excited to get some space family feels in here!  
>   
> Kudos and comments mean more to me than you could ever know! I have a very stressful job and writing this fic is like my gift to myself, so I'm so so so glad other people are enjoying it <3


	6. Ghosts need reminding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Empire Day. Kanan and Hera try to convince someone to join the team.

Kanan and Hera didn’t really have another opportunity to be alone together in the weeks after Kanan showed her his holocron and lightsaber. That was how Kanan referred to the incident in his head: _when I showed Hera my holocron and lightsaber._ Not, _when I almost kissed Hera and she almost kissed me back,_ because that thought was far too distracting.  
  
They had stayed on Lothal after dealing with the TIE fighter and getting their credits from Vizago for the Imperial munitions. It was only a week until Empire Day, which usually meant great fanfare in the capital city, as the Empire considered it the perfect opportunity to demonstrate total control over the stubborn planet.  
  
This Empire Day would mark 11 years since the purge of the Jedi. Kanan usually tried to avoid doing, well, anything related to the Empire on its dark anniversary. Last year, he had taken the Phantom out to a remote outpost for a supply run. Hera hadn’t said anything when he volunteered for the mission, or commented on his red eyes when he returned.  
  
But things were different now. Hera knew about his past, what the Empire had taken from him. And something had changed for Kanan as well. He wasn’t quite sure when it happened, but sometime over the past year he had subconsciously decided he was going to stop running from his past, and start facing his future.  
  
Most of their time was thus spent planning for Empire Day, or trekking to the capital for recon. The city was crawling with Imps, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; they’d be more focused on soaking up glory in the parades than guarding their ships and weapons. There were more opportunities to steal gear, to sabotage equipment, to eavesdrop on loose-lipped stormtroopers in cantinas.  
  
So, fine, there had actually been several times when they were alone together over the past few weeks, but it had been all business. Kanan didn’t exactly feel comfortable interrupting Hera in the middle of a late-night caf-fueled planning session to say, _Hey, remember that time we were alone in my room and we almost kissed? Maybe we could do that again sometime, but without getting interrupted by your droid, who also definitely wants to murder me?_  
  
Kanan sighed. When he wasn’t thinking about Empire Day, he was thinking about that moment with Hera and how to replicate it, and frankly the dueling priorities were beginning to give him a headache.  
  
“You alright?” Hera asked. They were walking towards one of the capital’s more disreputable cantinas, a hole-in-the-wall establishment with a reputation for strong drinks and criminal clientele.  
  
“Yeah, fine. You sure he’ll be there?” Kanan asked, switching the subject.  
  
“He told me he would be,” Hera said with a shrug.  
  
Hera had been regularly frequenting that cantina over the past few weeks, trying to drum up intel on any criminal activity being planned. Although as a female Twi’lek she might attract more attention at seedy bars, it was tacitly agreed that Hera would take cantina duty and not Kanan. Even though they never discussed it, Kanan was relieved. It was easier to stay focused and on mission if he wasn’t stuck nursing a drink for hours on the off-chance someone said something interesting in a dank cantina.  
  
The cartels and criminal bosses on Lothal were typically quiet on Empire Day, for fear of drawing the attention of the larger Imperial presence. But Hera had heard rumors about a new player, someone who had bounced around the galaxy destroying small Imperial shipments single-handedly before landing on Lothal ahead of Empire Day.  
  
Yesterday, Hera had met him: a Lasat male who introduced himself as “Zeb.” He had clearly been looking to lay low, and this cantina was about as low as one could get. Hera had told Kanan that Zeb didn’t seem open to joining forces, but he agreed to meet with the two of them at the cantina the following day to discuss it further.  
  
Kanan had been surprised by Hera’s news when she told him over dinner last night. He knew that Lasan had been essentially destroyed by the Empire, with very few Lasat surviving, so it was no mystery why this Zeb would want to take down the Imps. Kanan had only known one Lasat in his life, Jedi Master Jaro Tapal, but he remembered that they were a people who prized honor and community above all.  
  
Hera and Kanan walked into the dusty cantina. It was unassuming from the outside, the door almost completely unmarked in an attempt to avoid Imperial scrutiny. The inside was dim and suffocating, with very few windows and fewer lights. Whining music was playing from a tinny radio behind the bar, which was staffed by a Rodian who nodded at Hera as they walked in.  
  
It was still morning, but there were already a few patrons sitting at the bar or in booths around the walls of the cantina. Like so many of the cantinas Kanan had frequented before joining the _Ghost_ , the clientele was a mix of species with only one thing in common: the desire to go unnoticed. That said, he knew any one of the other patrons would turn him and Hera over to the Imps in a second if they thought it would make them a quick credit. They would need to be on their guard.  
  
Hera led them over to a corner booth, where they slid into the same bench on one side of the table against the wall. She signaled to the Rodian behind the bar for three drinks. Kanan was reminded uncomfortably of the last time they had sat like this at a similar cantina on Bonadan, when they met with the clone. Hera must have sensed his unease, because she grabbed his hand resting on the bench between them and gave it a quick squeeze.  
  
“You alright?” she asked quietly. Kanan huffed a small laugh.  
  
“No,” he said honestly. “But I think I will be.”  
  
Hera softened her grip on his hand, but didn’t let go. Kanan’s heart started beating faster. He took a deep breath. There was never going to be a good time for this conversation, so might as well just have it.  
  
“Hera – ”  
  
“Look,” Hera interrupted, releasing Kanan’s hand. The Lasat had just entered the cantina, bowing his head so he could fit through the doorway. He sauntered over to Kanan and Hera’s table.  
  
Kanan had only met Master Tapal once or twice. He had forgotten how large the Lasat were, and how they moved with a sort of loping grace. The other patrons of the cantina eyed Zeb as he walked towards Kanan and Hera – he was an unusually large being, but there was also something about his aura that commanded respect. He pulled a long, stick-like weapon from a holster in his back and leaned it next to the booth before sitting down.  
  
“Hey,” Zeb said as he took the place across from them, his voice gravelly. “So, this is your human, then?” He said to Hera, nodding at Kanan.  
  
“Kanan Jarrus,” Kanan said, holding out his hand and ignoring the way his heart fluttered when Zeb called him Hera’s human. Zeb shook it briefly, enveloping Kanan’s hand in his own far larger one.  
  
“I’m Zeb,” he said gruffly. “I don’t know why your captain wanted to meet again. I already told her I’m not interested in your little _rebellion._ ” Zeb stressed the last word with distaste. Hera looked around the room nervously. The Rodian bartender came and set their drinks on the table, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them.  
  
“And I already told you we’re not what you think,” Hera said, after the Rodian had shuffled back behind the bar.  
  
Zeb leaned back, even though there was barely room for him in the small booth to sit up straight. Kanan could hear the bench abutting Zeb’s scrape against the floor as he pushed it back with his unimpressed slouch.  
  
“You’re trying to make a few quick credits, yeah? Steal some supplies, blow up some shipments,” Zeb said. “But if it came down to it, would you really risk everything to fight the Empire? Or would you run away?”  
  
Hera leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.  
  
“We’re not in this for the money,” she said, her voice low. Zeb shook his head. “The Empire has enslaved my people and subjugated thousands of systems. We want to help.”  
  
“I’ve met some idealists in my time, kid. Pretty words, but there's usually nothing behind them. I don’t know if I can trust you to make the hard choices,” Zeb said flatly.  
  
Hera sighed. Kanan suddenly realized with a jolt that he was sensing someone else’s emotions through the Force. He was so used to cutting himself off from the Force, so used to the dull ache of his own pain, that he was surprised to feel the tendrils of loss and despair emanating from another being, strong enough to penetrate his defenses. Kanan opened his awareness more, just a little bit, and felt sharp stabs of pain spiking through the Force.  
  
This wasn’t physical hurt. This was the kind of gaping wound that came from incalculable loss. And entwined in the pain was anger, hot and writhing, borne from shame and a sense of powerlessness.  
  
Kanan knew the pain that was emanating from Zeb as intimately as he knew his own.  
  
“You think we don’t know what you’ve been through. You think we don’t know how it feels to have the Empire take everything,” Kanan said.  
  
Zeb barked a short laugh.  
  
“How could you?” he asked. “How could you know what it is to watch your entire people wiped out, and have there be nothing you can do?”  
  
“The Empire killed my people too,” Kanan said softly. Hera looked at him in alarm.  
  
“Kanan – ” Hera began, but she was interrupted by Zeb’s snort.  
  
“Your people rule the galaxy,” he said.  
  
Kanan rested a hand on Hera’s leg. _I know what I’m doing._ Now that he had opened himself more in the Force, Kanan sensed that he could trust Zeb with his past. It was like someone was shining a light on the ground a few feet ahead of him; he couldn’t see the end result, but he could tell the illuminated path was safe. He took a deep breath.  
  
“Not humans. The Jedi,” Kanan said.  
  
Whatever retort Zeb had died on his lips. He looked at Kanan, slack-jawed.  
  
“I was 14 when the Empire hunted down and killed all the Jedi. I was a padawan, and I escaped because of my master’s sacrifice,” Kanan continued, keeping his voice quiet. Zeb leaned in again to hear him better. “I watched as my master was murdered. I felt as every Jedi across the galaxy was cut down, brutally and quickly.”  
  
Kanan paused. That same intuition based in the Force nudged him again, telling him that Zeb needed a demonstration. He checked to make sure no one was watching, and waved his hand. All three of their still-full glasses suddenly lifted a few inches off the table and hovered in the air for a brief moment, completely steady. Zeb looked at him with awe as Kanan set the glasses back down on the table. Hera looked around again, but his trick seemed to have gone unnoticed.  
  
“I didn’t know there were any Jedi left,” Zeb breathed.  
  
“As far as I know, I’m the only one,” Kanan said. “And I was alone, for almost ten years. Then I met Hera.”  
  
Hera looked up at him in surprise, but Kanan kept his eyes trained on Zeb.  
  
“Hera gave me a purpose. She isn’t in this for credits. She believes in her mission, and she wants to help people. If it came down to a fight between Hera and the Empire, she would stay and fight, and I’d bet on her being the one to come out alive,” Kanan said. “She showed me that I didn’t have to be alone, even if I was the only one of my people left.”  
  
Kanan could feel his heart pounding again. Opening himself in the Force meant he could feel Hera’s energy more fully as he sat next to her, her signature bright and pure and overwhelming.  
  
Zeb looked between them, a thoughtful expression on his face. They sat in silence for a few moments.  
  
“My full name’s Garazeb Orrelios,” he said finally. “I was a captain of the Lasan Honor Guard.”  
  
Kanan nodded.  
  
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.  
  
“Yours too. But I’m ready to go out and make the Empire pay for what they took from us,” Zeb replied. He turned to Hera. “How big did you say that ship of yours was? I don’t like small spaces.”  
  
Hera smiled, startled by the sudden change in Zeb’s behavior. The Lasat’s jaded expression was gone, and he seemed almost eager.  
  
“Does that mean you’ll help us?” she asked.  
  
“Assuming you have room for a Lasat,” Zeb said. He took a big swill of his drink, downing half of it in a swallow, as if to demonstrate the needs of a his species.  
  
“We have room for you, don’t worry,” Hera said. “I can give you a tour now, if you like. And we can go over some of our plans for Empire Day.”  
  
Zeb nodded. Kanan reached to pull out some money for the drinks, ignoring his still-full glass, but Zeb beat him to it and slapped credits on the table.  
  
“Your drinks are on me. Consider it a down payment for my room,” Zeb said in a tone of mock magnanimity.  
  
“Do you need to pick anything up before we head to the ship?” Hera asked. Zeb shrugged.  
  
“Nah. Sold the ship I came in on. It was stolen anyway,” he said casually. “All I need is my bo-rifle.” He stood up, replaced the weapon leaning against the bench to the holster on his back, and began loping back towards the cantina door.  
  
Hera stood as well. Kanan could sense she was still confused by the sudden turn of events, but pleased to have a new ally. She looked at Kanan briefly, smiling widely.  
  
“Thank you,” she whispered. Kanan shrugged.  
  
“He just needed to know who we really were,” he said.  
  
They walked out of the dark cantina, back into the sunlight. Kanan kept that line of connection to the Force open. He was so used to being overwhelmed with grief when he opened himself up to the Force, and he had forgotten what it was to feel connected to every living being around him, to the energy of the universe. There was pain there, but beauty, too.  
  
He squinted in the sunlight, eyes falling on Hera and Zeb walking side by side ahead of him. Zeb’s aura of pain was still present, still powerful, but it wasn’t the only emotion emanating from the Lasat. There was now a sliver of hope pulsing from his Force signature.  
  
Kanan smiled and tilted his face up to the sun as they walked to the _Ghost_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, I really struggled with this chapter. Not sure why - maybe it's because I'm struggling with life in general right now. But introducing a new character is hard! Also, describing the Force is hard!  
>   
> I like to think that Zeb and Kanan would have bonded over their mutual losses. Of course, Zeb's people weren't totally lost, and neither were Kanan's, but they didn't know that at the time. Oh, also, the Lasat Jedi I mention is a character in Jedi: Fallen Order, which is a video game. I've never played it, but I assume Kanan would've seen him around the temple.  
>   
> I know I left things hanging with Kanan and Hera, and while I admit that's partially to build the tension, I also think they are both extremely bad at romance. The mission would of course come first for Hera, and she probably wouldn't mind avoiding a scary conversation. But I promise you, this will be resolved, and soon!  
>   
> Chapter title comes from a poem I read in college. Didn't like the poem, but that's a great line.  
>   
> As always, keep those comments coming! You have no idea how much they mean to me. I'm telepathically sending each reader a giant box of chocolates.


	7. Ghosts don't stay down (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Empire Day, and the Ghost crew puts their plan in action. New crew member Zeb is partnered with Chopper, which makes neither of them very happy.

Garazeb Orrelios was many things. Captain of the Honor Guard, courageous warrior, pretty good dejarik player, and loyal friend.  
  
He was _not_ , however, some babysitter for a cranky droid.  
  
“I don’t see why I’m the one who gets stuck with the droid,” Zeb grumbled as they went over the plan on the morning of Empire Day. Zeb was a naturally early riser, so waking up before dawn hadn’t bothered him, but Kanan was yawning widely between large sips of caf.  
  
“Because you can’t fit into stormtrooper gear and you can’t flirt,” Hera said crisply. She also had her hands curled around her mug of caf, but was far more awake than Kanan, taut like a wire with anxiety.  
  
“Hey, you’ve never seen me flirt,” Zeb said defensively. “I’m great at flirting.”  
  
“Yes, you’re very charming,” Hera said drily. “But you’re going with Chopper to the warehouse.”  
  
Zeb sighed. He was pretty sure that droid was out to get him. He had been on the _Ghost_ a few weeks and Chopper had locked him in his room twice and deliberately tripped him countless times.  
  
(Zeb had asked Kanan about it – Hera seemed too attached to the droid to listen to reason – but Kanan had just shrugged and grinned.  
  
“Hey, I’m just glad he has someone else on the ship to hate now,” Kanan had said.)  
  
Kanan gave his most aggressive yawn yet and picked at the protein bar on the plate in front of him moodily.  
  
“I don’t love this plan either,” he said.  
  
“There’s a surprise,” Zeb muttered.  
  
“Kanan, we talked about this. I can lure a stormtrooper to the alley outside the cantina, where you’ll knock him out and take his armor,” Hera said, with the annoyed tone of someone who has had the same argument one too many times.  
  
“It may not be safe – ”  
  
“I can take care of myself, Kanan,” Hera said in a dangerously low voice, her tone indicating unequivocally that the conversation was over. She pushed her chair away from the kitchen table and stood up. “I’m going to finish getting ready. Meet at the Phantom in 30 minutes.”  
  
Kanan scowled into his mug of caf as Hera left the kitchen.  
  
“It’s a good plan,” Zeb said.  
  
“I know it’s a good plan,” Kanan grumbled.  
  
“You should tell Hera how you feel.”  
  
Kanan snapped his head up, now aiming his scowl at Zeb.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You should tell Hera how you feel about her,” Zeb repeated. “And if you don’t tell her soon, I will, because I’ve been on this ship a few weeks and you two are already driving me crazy.”  
  
“I’m sorry?” Kanan said.  
  
“You love her, she loves you, but neither of you will say anything so you just get into arguments instead. It’s annoying,” Zeb said. “It would make things a lot easier for everyone, especially me, if you just told her how you feel.”  
  
“It’s not that easy,” Kanan muttered.  
  
“Sure it is. You go up to her and say, ‘Hera, I love you, please kiss me so I can stop brooding,’” Zeb said with a snicker. Kanan glared at him.  
  
“I’m beginning to wish I never convinced you to join the crew,” he said.  
  
“I’m just giving you my advice as a friend,” Zeb said.  
  
“I think friends usually are nicer when they give advice,” Kanan replied.  
  
“That sounds like your problem, not mine,” Zeb said with a grin as he stood up from the table, leaving Kanan to brood with his caf alone.  
  


* * *

  
  
Zeb waited at one of the side doors of the Imperial warehouse, feeling uncomfortably conspicuous. It was already hard for him to blend in, and there was no cover for him here. Fortunately, it was at the edge of the capital city, and patrols only passed by it twice an hour. No civilians were walking by, as this sector was almost entirely comprised of Imperial facilities, but that would just make Zeb’s presence even more suspicious if he was spotted.  
  
“Come on, come on,” he muttered, gripping his bo-rifle and shifting from foot to foot. Where was that blasted droid?  
  
The four of them had traveled to the city in the Phantom before splitting up. Kanan and Hera had walked from the dock towards the center of the city, while Chopper and Zeb had made their way toward the Imperial warehouses on the edge of town. Most of the ships and equipment that would be on display during the Empire Day parade had been moved from the facilities already, so there wasn’t much of an Imperial presence around the warehouses. All that was left were the far less impressive, aging models which were deemed unworthy of the grand parade.  
  
Chopper was painted as an Imperial droid, and had beeped and bullied his way past two luckless stormtroopers into the facility containing several older models of TIE fighters. He was supposed to be opening the door for Zeb to get into the warehouse, but was taking his sweet time about it. Zeb wondered if Chopper was moving slowly on purpose, just to torment him. Although he knew that was unlikely – Chopper would never deliberately do anything that would upset Hera – he still cursed the droid under his breath.  
  
Finally, the door clicked open, and Zeb was able to walk into the warehouse.  
  
“Took you long enough,” he grumbled at Chopper when he entered, seeing the droid standing next to the door. Chopper booped indignantly.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Zeb said. “Let’s get on with it.”  
  
The warehouse seemed massive to Zeb, but it was one of the smaller ones in the sector, containing the technological castoffs of the Empire. Other than the stormtroopers at the front entrance, it was completely empty. There were boxes of old tech and broken equipment lining the walls of the facility.  
  
“Alright, let’s blow up some TIEs,” Zeb said, unable to keep the enthusiasm from his voice, even if he was paired with Chopper.  
  
There were nine TIE fighters docked in the center of the warehouse. They looked the same as every other TIE to Zeb, but Hera had heard during one of her cantina recon outings that they were two models removed from the newest fighter. The Empire was likely to phase them out in the coming months.  
  
Zeb crept between the fighters, attaching a small bomb to each one. When he was done, he retreated back to the stack of boxes near the front entrance. Chopper was hiding behind the makeshift wall.  
  
Zeb clicked the detonator. He was rocked back by the force of the explosions, but the warehouse was large enough that he and Chopper were protected by the stack of boxes. It was likely the fire would spread, though, so he hoped those useless bucketheads would move quickly.  
  
The front entrance of the warehouse opened and two stormtroopers rushed in, running past where Zeb and Chopper were hidden.  
  
“What happened?” one of them demanded.  
  
“How should I know?” the other one answered. He pressed a button on his comm. “Base, there’s been an explosion at Warehouse 12. Requesting assistance.”  
  
_“What happened?”_ asked the voice over the comm.  
  
“I don’t know, sir. These are old TIEs, sir, maybe there was a technical malfunction.”  
  
_“Redirecting a few speeders your way. Find out what happened,”_ the voice on the other side of the comm said.  
  
“'Technical malfunction?’” the other stormtrooper asked.  
  
“I don’t know, maybe it was! Any criminals would be more interested in the equipment they’ll be showing in the parade,” the one who had commed the capital base replied. “Who would want to blow up some old ships?”  
  
“That would be me,” Zeb said, stepping out from behind his hiding place. The two stormtroopers whipped around to face him, but he was already running towards them. He hit one and then the other with the ends of his bo-rifle, and they fell to the ground.  
  
Chopper beeped angrily.  
  
“I know Hera said not to draw attention, but I wasn’t just going to let those bucketheads walk away!” Zeb said. “I thought you’d appreciate a little violence.”  
  
Chopper beeped again, clearly unimpressed, and they returned to their hiding spot.  
  
They only waited a few more moments before they heard the rev of speeders approaching the warehouse. Three stormtroopers entered the warehouse, pausing when they saw the other soldiers on the floor.  
  
“What the – ” one of them began to say, before being knocked out by Zeb’s bo-rifle. He took out a second stormtrooper easily, but the third had pulled out his blaster. He began shooting at Zeb while backing away frantically. Zeb dodged the blast, and the trooper tripped and fell on his back. Zeb gave him a quick jab with his bo-rifle, knocking him out.  
  
“Pathetic,” Zeb said with disgust.  
  
Chopper and Zeb walked out of the warehouse to the three abandoned speeders. Here was the part of the plan that he had been dreading.  
  
He sighed and picked up Chopper, holding the droid on its side under his right arm. The droid beeped indignantly.  
  
“Hey, I don’t like this anymore than you do,” Zeb said. “I’m the one who has to hold a droid while riding a speeder.”  
  
He sat down on one of the speeders and revved it, ignoring Chopper’s increasingly angry beeps and boops under his arm. Zeb drove away, leaving the smoking warehouse behind them.  
  
Most of the Imps were at the parade in the center of the city so Zeb didn’t have any problems leaving the capital from the warehouse sector at the edge of town. He drove back to the _Ghost_ as planned, relieved when he could finally drop Chopper unceremoniously to the ground. He then drove the speeder a few kilometers away from the _Ghost_ before destroying it with another small bomb. He would have preferred to keep the speeder, but they couldn’t risk discovery.  
  
By the time had Zeb walked back to the _Ghost_ , Chopper had turned on Lothal’s Imperial radio. He grabbed a protein bar and then sat down in the lounge to listen.  
  
_“We now celebrate the Empire’s glorious liberation of Lothal with a procession of the finest Imperial weaponry, granted to us by our benevolent emperor…”_ a woman’s voice said on the radio.  
  
The parade was beginning. It was Hera and Kanan’s turn now. Zeb had returned to the _Ghost_ to avoid capture in case he was seen, and he had definitely been seen. Once the unconscious troopers woke up, they’d be able to describe him, and it would be pretty easy to find a Lasat roaming around the city, even for the bucketheads. Still, Zeb wished he could be on the ground to watch as the Empire got humiliated during its own parade.  
  
Zeb smiled and closed his eyes. Hearing the explosion and the radio host’s shocked voice was almost as good as watching it in the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is part one of two! In the next chapter we'll see what Kanan and Hera get up to. I had so much fun writing Zeb. He's so sarcastic, and he would definitely immediately call Kanan and Hera out. I also love writing about Zeb and Chopper. I headcanon that Hera thinks about Chopper the way that a pet owner thinks about their objectively terrible pet. Like the owner is all, "oh he's just a big softie really" and meanwhile their dog is a literal hellhound. (This is not an insult, I adore Chopper.)  
>   
> Also headcanon that Kanan is NOT a morning person and is a total grouch before he's finished his caf.  
>   
> Hope you liked this chapter! Comments bring me so much joy <3


	8. Ghosts don't stay down (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan and Hera enact their part of the plan to disrupt Empire Day on Lothal.

Kanan could tell Hera was distracted. She had been pretty quiet on the trip over to the capital city in the Phantom, and had barely said a word to Zeb and Chopper when they split up. As they walked to the cantina in the city center, Kanan could feel her anxiety pulsing in the Force.  
  
“Are you alright?” Kanan said quietly.  
  
“I’m fine,” Hera said sharply. She sighed and looked down at her feet as they walked. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just hate being in this ridiculous outfit.”  
  
She tugged at the bottom of her shirt, which was cropped above her midriff. Hera had decided that wearing her flight suit would raise too much suspicion. To any observers at the cantina, she would be another pretty Twi’lek trying to curry favor with the Imps. It was odd to see her like this outside of the ship, so exposed and vulnerable, her conical ears visible and her arms bare.  
  
Kanan knew Hera hated being seen like this. Twi’lek women had a reputation, borne by generations of enslavement on outer rim planets and fetishizing in holodramas. Hera was proud of her heritage and her people, but she didn’t want to be seen as a stereotype. Unfortunately, the stereotype was exactly who she needed to be for the plan to work.  
  
Kanan struggled with how to respond to Hera’s clear discomfort. He didn’t like seeing her so unhappy, but this was also her plan, and her decision.  
  
“Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?” Kanan said. It still didn’t quite feel like the right thing to say to her, but it was better than walking to the cantina in heavy silence.  
  
“No, it’s okay,” Hera sighed again. “Thanks for doing this with me.”  
  
“It’s a good plan,” Kanan said.  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Hera said. Kanan opened his mouth to ask her what she did mean, but they had arrived at the cantina.  
  
Del’s Cantina was close to the main avenue in the city, and was a popular joint for stormtroopers and other Imperial sympathizers. It was still a couple of hours until the parade began, so the place was likely crawling with Imps eating lunch and getting smashed before the festivities. Hera and Kanan walked to the alley where Kanan would hide behind the dumpster for the butcher shop across the street from the cantina.  
  
“That’s a great smell,” Kanan grumbled.  
  
“Zeb and Chop should be at the warehouse by now. It won’t be too long before they provide our distraction,” Hera said. She turned and began to walk out the alley.  
  
“Hera – ” Kanan called to her, and she stopped and turned around. “Just – be careful in there.”  
  
“I will,” she said, and she walked out of the dank alley into the sunny, crowded street.  
  
Kanan probably only waited for half an hour, but it felt like longer. He eyed the cantina, waiting for the tell-tale signal of stormtroopers walking out the door, called back to their stations early after an unexpected explosion in one of the warehouses.  
  
A knot of troopers finally walked out the door, grumbling about having their meals cut short because of some stupid “potential security risk.” Hera and another trooper exited the cantina behind the cluster, the trooper’s arm perched across her shoulder. He was walking unsteadily, indicating that Hera had chosen her prey based on level of intoxication.  
  
“But I have to go back to work,” the trooper mumbled as Hera guided him into the alley. She looked behind her, but no one had followed. A drunk trooper disappearing into an alley with an underdressed woman was not a rarity in the capital.  
  
“Come on, sweetheart, just a minute,” Hera implored. Kanan suppressed the sudden surge of anger and jealousy in his stomach.  
  
Hera tugged the trooper behind the dumpster, now supporting most of his weight.  
  
“Hey, wait a second. There’s another man here,” the trooper said blearily. He pulled his arm off of Hera and stumbled towards Kanan. “Go find another alley, man.”  
  
Kanan punched him, sending the trooper sprawling to the ground. He shook out his hand – punching a plastic helmet hurt – but his blow seemed to have been extremely effective. Hera knelt down and pulled the trooper’s helmet off.  
  
“He’s out cold,” she said, and she began tugging the trooper’s armor off unceremoniously. “You know, you didn’t have to hit him that hard.”  
  
“He’s a stormtrooper!” Kanan said defensively, kneeling down to help Hera.  
  
“I think you probably could’ve knocked him out with a light push. No need to go hurting your hand,” Hera said with a smile.  
  
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Kanan replied as he started pulling the trooper’s armor over his own outfit. The trooper was about his size, but the armor was a bit tight around the chest and under his arms.  
  
“This pinches,” Kanan complained. Hera rolled her eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find a drunk stormtrooper more your size,” she said. Kanan dipped his head down so Hera could fit the helmet over it.  
  
“This armor is terrible. No wonder troopers are so bad at deflecting blaster fire,” Kanan said. They propped the unconscious stormtrooper so he was leaning against the wall. Between Kanan’s punch and his own drunkness, the trooper would probably be out for a few hours, and if they were lucky, may not even remember what happened.  
  
_“Trooper, where are you? You were told to return to your post,”_ a voice said over the comm on Kanan’s arm.  
  
“Uh, be right there,” Kanan replied. “Do I look okay?” he asked Hera. She smiled.  
  
“You look like a dumb buckethead, so, you look perfect,” Hera said. “Are you ready?”  
  
Kanan nodded.  
  
“I’ll meet you back at the Phantom soon,” he said. Hera put her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe and kissed the side of his helmet.  
  
“Stay safe,” she said as she pulled away.  
  
“Always,” Kanan replied, wondering how he could feel like his entire body was tingling even though her lips hadn’t actually touched his skin.  
  
Kanan walked out of the alley and headed towards the municipal building that stood at the head of the main avenue, where the parade would be starting. He blended in with the masses of stormtroopers who were also heading in that direction.  
  
He turned a corner and saw troopers all along the block leading up to the main avenue, lining up for the procession. There were boxes of munitions hovering on platforms in between the blocs of troopers who would be walking on the street. Other troopers were jumping into walkers, which would stroll down the avenue in a show of Imperial might.  
  
Kanan wended his way through the other troopers, searching for a specific box of weaponry. It seemed impossible that he would find a box of bombs in this crowd full of Imps.  
  
Struck with a brilliant or possibly idiotic idea, Kanan tapped the shoulder of trooper walking in front of him.  
  
“Yes?” the trooper said.  
  
“Uh, do you know where the explosives division is? I’m supposed to be guiding the hover platform for the grenades,” Kanan said, hoping desperately that the trooper didn’t know who was actually supposed to be guiding the platform.  
  
The trooper pointed to a row of boxes several yards to Kanan’s right.  
  
“This is an organizational mess,” the trooper whispered to Kanan conspiratorially. “I don’t know how they expect us to get started on time.”  
  
“Ha, yeah,” Kanan replied awkwardly.  
  
Even though bombs couldn’t be demonstrated during a parade, the Imperial occupation still wanted the citizens of Lothal to know how well-stocked the troopers were with explosives. There were several large crates with no lids holding an assortment of munitions, including what Kanan was looking for – timed grenades.  
  
Kanan walked over to the open crate and skimmed his hand over it, picking up several small grenades. He tugged a lightweight bag which he had hidden up his sleeve from under his armor and tossed the grenades in.  
  
“Hey, what are you doing?” a voice from his left said. Kanan ground his teeth. These helmets had no peripheral vision.  
  
Kanan turned to face the other trooper, who was eyeing him suspiciously. (As suspiciously as a person could eye anyone while wearing a helmet, anyway.)  
  
“I’ve been told to respond to that disturbance down at the warehouse, and all of our weapons are stocked here,” Kanan lied easily. Remembering the other trooper’s annoyance at the disorganization of the scene, he leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You’d think they would’ve left us some grenades in the armory, right?”  
  
The other trooper was silent for an agonizing second, and then huffed with laughter.  
  
“Gotta make it look good for the parade, right?” the trooper said. “You should get going. I heard that disturbance wasn’t an accident.”  
  
“Don’t these rebels realize it’s Empire Day?” Kanan replied, not bothering to hide his smile underneath his helmet.  
  
He walked away from the crates of explosives and towards the walkers lined up at the back of the procession. He set a timer on one of the grenades – an hour should do it, they wanted to be sure the procession had started before any explosions occurred – and then leaned down to stick it on what could be considered the ankle joint of the front right leg of a walker.  
  
He repeated the process for the other nine walkers. The chaos of the scene worked in his favor, as the troopers milling around him were too busy trying to get in place before the parade officially started to notice one trooper hanging around the walkers.  
  
The grenades were small in size, but they packed a significant punch. They were unlikely to be spotted before the parade started, and blowing out just one leg of the walker could send the whole thing tumbling. After sticking the last grenade on a walker, he headed away from the street filled with troopers and equipment and back toward the docks, where the Phantom and Hera were waiting.  
  
No one bothered him on the way back to the docks – it was nice to be a stormtrooper sometimes – and he had turned off his comm so the buckethead’s increasingly annoyed commander couldn’t bother him. Even though the docks were a good twenty-minute walk away from the main avenue, Kanan could hear the cheers which indicated that the parade had started as he entered the Phantom.  
  
Hera was sitting in the pilot’s seat and listening to Imperial radio. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes, so she was still in her odd getup from earlier in the day. Kanan took off his helmet and rested it on the console before sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. The stormtrooper and the Twi’lek.  
  
“How did it go?” Hera asked.  
  
_“We now celebrate the Empire’s glorious liberation of Lothal with a procession of the finest Imperial weaponry, granted to us by our benevolent emperor…”_ a woman’s voice was saying on the radio.  
  
“Good, I think. We’ll see,” he replied. They didn’t want to leave the docks while the parade was still ongoing. It was far more suspicious for a ship to leave the city before some large explosions than after, when everyone would be seeking to get out quickly.  
  
Kanan snuck a quick glance at Hera. She was staring out the front window, her expression contemplative.  
  
“You alright?” Kanan asked.  
  
“Not really,” Hera answered. “Today was harder than I expected.”  
  
“Did anyone – ”  
  
“No one hurt me, or even touched me really,” Hera answered before he could finish. “It was the way people looked at me. Like I was an object, not a person. I’ve worked so hard my whole life to earn respect, and sometimes I forget how people really see me.”  
  
She paused for so long that Kanan opened his mouth to respond, but she spoke over him again, still gazing out the front windshield.  
  
“It’s not just the outfit, either. Even when I’m wearing my flightsuit, sometimes it’s hard for people to take me seriously,” Hera turned to look at Kanan. “I’m glad it was so easy for us to get you the stormtrooper armor. I just wish – I just wish people actually saw me when they look at me.”  
  
“I see you,” Kanan said suddenly, unsure of what he was saying, but knowing it was important to get out. “Hera, I see you. You’re an incredible pilot, and a great leader, and, and you’re a sore winner and kind of bad at cooking and a bit too attached to your demon droid. And you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”  
  
Kanan was breathing heavily, like he had just been running. Hera was looking at him oddly, with an expression on her face he couldn’t parse. It may have been affection, or annoyance at his completely random insults. _Idiot, why did you have to say that about her cooking?_  
  
Kanan was saved by saying anything else by the sound of several explosions over the radio, and their distant echo from a mile away outside the shuttle.  
  
_“It, ah, seems as if the procession AT-ATs was halted by a, uh, technical malfunction,”_ the voice on the radio said. _“Several walkers have lost control of their legs, and are, uh, crashing – no, not crashing, falling! Falling deliberately I am sure, into the ground, or, ah, into each other – ”_  
  
Kanan whooped and jumped to his feet as the unfortunate radio host continued to describe the walkers crashing down or into each other as they tried to move forward. Hera laughed and jumped up and down. It was a small victory – only ten or so walkers damaged – but the psychological blow was just as important. The citizens of Lothal, who had resisted Imperial occupation every step of the way, just saw the weapons of the great Empire felled in the middle of their biggest celebration of the year.  
  
Kanan walked over and hugged Hera tightly, surprised to find pinpricks of tears at the corner of his eyes. Hera was still giggling softly.  
  
“We did it,” Hera said, wrapped in his arms.  
  
“We did it,” Kanan agreed. “You did it.”  
  
Hera pulled away. Kanan dropped his arms as if they had been burned. Had he gone too far in hugging her?  
  
Hera looked up at him with that set of determination in her jaw, her eyes bright. She was like a beacon in the Force right now, her joy palpable. And…there was something else…  
  
“Kanan,” Hera whispered, and then suddenly she was surging up to meet him in a kiss.  
  
Kanan almost didn’t react, he was so startled by the sudden press of her lips on his. She pulled away after a few seconds, her face flushed. Kanan stared at her for a moment, utterly shocked, and then over a year of pent-up desire kicked in and he leaned down to kiss her back.  
  
Kanan pulled Hera to him as they kissed, somewhat awkwardly since he was still wearing the clunky stormtrooper armor. Her lips were warm, slotted perfectly against his, and she carded a hand through his hair as he deepened the kiss. She nipped his lower lip.  
  
It was like Kanan’s entire body was on fire, every nerve exposed, overwhelmed by the softness of her lips, the smooth curves of her body. He found himself gasping for breath when she broke away, his lips swollen and his eyes unfocused.  
  
_“I said, come in, Hera and Kanan,”_ Zeb’s voice said through the comm. From the annoyed tone, it seemed he had tried to get their attention more than once. Hera reached down and pressed the button on the console to reply.  
  
“Yeah, Zeb, we hear you,” Hera said, her voice admirably steady. Kanan was still standing there where she had left him, heart thudding in his chest.  
  
_“Sounds like the mission was successful,”_ Zeb said. Hera laughed.  
  
“It does sound like that, doesn’t it?” she said. Kanan vaguely realized the Imperial radio was still playing, although the female voice had been replaced by an even smoother male one who was now explaining that the AT-ATs had exhibited a technical malfunction.  
  
“We’ll be heading back soon,” Hera said.  
  
_“Copy that,”_ Zeb replied.  
  
Hera turned back to face Kanan. He was still standing there like an idiot, but at least, he told himself, he was aware he was standing there like an idiot.  
  
“Kanan,” Hera said, walking slowly back towards him. “You know the mission is always going to come first for me.”  
  
“I know,” Kanan said quickly. “That’s fine, that’s good, that’s – ”  
  
Hera mercifully cut off his babbling. She reached up and placed her palm on his cheek.  
  
“The mission will always come first. But – I can’t do it alone. And I want,” Hera paused, searching for words, “I want to be with you, Kanan.”  
  
Kanan was pretty sure he was going to either pass out or melt into a puddle on the shuttle floor.  
  
“I want to be with you, too,” he said, admirably not passing out or melting. “I want that a lot.”  
  
Hera smiled.  
  
“Good,” she whispered, tilting her head up towards his. “I’m not going to forget you calling me a sore winner, though, or – ”  
  
Kanan pressed his lips to hers before she could finish. She smiled into the kiss, and he wrapped his arms around her again, knowing that he would never let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhhh! They kissed!! They finally kissed!!!  
>   
> I know I'm literally the one writing it, but I'm still so excited that they kissed. Kanan is such a dork, and he would be completely overwhelmed by Hera making the first move. You love to see it!  
>   
> I always thought it was pretty messed up how female Twi'leks are treated in the GFFA, so I wanted to get some of that down. Hera is so strong and powerful, but I bet those expectations and stereotypes would be really hard to overcome.  
>   
> Anyway, please let me know what you thought of this (extra long, sorry) chapter. Kudos and comments mean the world to me. Also I'm on tumblr at skywalkeh dot tumblr dot com, if you want to reach out there. I'm a fairly useless but fun chaotic follow.


	9. Ghost stories I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of scenes of life on the Ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit different from previous chapters, an interlude of sorts. It doesn't have a plot, per se, but is comprised of different scenes from life with Hera, Kanan and Zeb.

Kanan was now able to confirm a theory he had long suspected: that kissing Hera Syndulla was better than almost anything in the galaxy. Better than wielding a light saber, better than the rush that came after completing a job, better than the freedom he felt watching the stars blur past in hyperspace.  
  
Still, theories had to be tested regularly, so he made sure to kiss Hera whenever possible. He kissed her while they were waiting for the caf machine to fill a cup, kissed her when she came up with a particularly good plan, kissed her when she beat him at dejarik for the millionth time.  
  
He was beginning to consider himself a connoisseur of Hera’s kisses. There was the soft peck on the cheek she would give him after they landed on a new planet, before he and Zeb would leave the ship. There was the gentle kiss she would press to his lips when he woke up in the middle of the night, shaking from his latest nightmare, and she would smooth his hair and whisper that he was okay, he was safe now.  
  
There were the all-too-infrequent, more passionate kisses they saved for when Zeb and Chopper were off the ship, which generally involved kissing Hera as she sat on the kitchen table, or as she sat on his lap in the copilot’s seat, or on the bunk in one of their rooms with the lights turned off.  
  
The type of kiss didn’t matter, really; every one was perfect. Every one made him marvel that Hera wanted him, that she had chosen him, that he was able to hold and touch and kiss and worship every inch of her perfect body. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but Kanan was pretty sure he was the luckiest person in the galaxy.  
  
“Kanan, are you paying attention?” Hera asked, snapping Kanan out of his reverie. Zeb snickered.  
  
“Uh, yeah,” Kanan lied. They were sitting at the kitchen table, planning their next smuggling run on Lothal. It had been over a month since Empire Day, and the situation on the ground had cooled down, according to Hera’s contacts.  
  
“What did I just say?” Hera asked, crossing her arms across her chest and raising one perfect eyebrow skeptically.  
  
“Um,” Kanan replied, intelligently.  
  
“Okay, clearly you need more caf,” Hera said, standing up and giving the still-grinning Zeb a withering look. “I’m going to check on Chop. Let me know when you’re ready to concentrate.”  
  
Kanan sighed as Hera walked out of the kitchen and took a sip from the mug of caf in front of him. He made a face. He had been too distracted to drink it while Hera was talking, and now it was cold.  
  
“Ah, young love,” Zeb said as Kanan stood up to make a new cup of caf. “You realize you were just staring at her for the past half hour.”  
  
“You should have nudged me or something,” Kanan grumbled.  
  
“I would have, but watching you moon over Hera was too funny,” Zep replied with a wicked grin. Kanan threw a still-wrapped protein bar at Zeb’s head, but the Lasat unfortunately caught it before it could make contact.  
  
“I get it, you know. I was in love once,” Zeb said thoughtfully as he began unwrapping the protein bar.  
  
“You were?” Kanan asked. He picked up his mug of fresh caf and sat back down at the table. “What happened?”  
  
“Didn’t work out,” Zeb said, his mouth full. “I put the guard before everything else, even our relationship.”  
  
Kanan furrowed his brow, thinking about how Hera told him _the mission always comes first._  
  
“We were different from you and Hera, though. Incompatible,” Zeb said hastily, sensing Kanan’s discomfort. “You two are very – patible.”  
  
“ _Com_ patible,” Kanan muttered.  
  
“Compatible,” Zeb agreed as he finished off his protein bar. “Anyway, I’ve seen the way she looks at you, too. She feels the same way you do.”  
  
“Really?” Kanan perked up. Zeb rolled his eyes.  
  
“Yes, really,” he said. “It’s enough to make me nauseous, the way you two are always staring at each other.”  
  
Kanan stood up, once again ignoring a full mug of caf.  
  
“I should go find Hera,” he said. “Let her know I’m ready to listen to the plan now.”  
  
“Sure you are,” Zeb sighed, pulling the mug of caf over from across the table as Kanan nearly ran out of the kitchen.  


* * *

  
“And that’s another victory for Syndulla!” Hera crowed as her Mantellian Savrip destroyed Zeb’s Ng’ok, ending the game of dejarik with a sudden and vicious swipe.  
  
“I swear she’s cheating somehow,” Zeb grumbled as the holographic pieces disappeared from the board. It was his third loss to Hera in an hour.  
  
“You’re just jealous you don’t have my innate talent,” Hera said serenely.  
  
“You know, I was the best dejarik player in the Honor Guard of Lasan,” Zeb said.  
  
“And now you’re the second-best player on the _Ghost_ ,” Hera replied. “Don’t worry, you’re still better than Kanan.”  
  
Kanan, who had been watching with amusement for the past hour as Hera got increasingly cocky and Zeb stewed over his losses, merely shrugged.  
  
“I never claimed to be good at holochess, unlike some Lasats I could name,” Kanan said.  
  
“Of course you’re on her side,” Zeb griped.  
  
“What do you say, Zeb? Go another round?” Hera asked. Zeb leaned back in his seat.  
  
“No way. Maybe you can get Chopper to play you,” he replied.  
  
Hera reached down and patted the top of the droid’s dome. He had been watching the games as well, beeping with approval every time Hera made a killing move.  
  
“I’m sure Chop would be a very good player. Probably better than either of you, although that’s not too hard,” she said, smiling mischievously. Chopper made an odd series of noises which Zeb was pretty sure meant the droid was purring like a Loth cat.  
  
“Alright, Hera, you’ve proved your dominance,” Kanan said. “Maybe we can switch activities now.”  
  
“You two are just sore losers,” Hera said. Zeb snorted. Kanan’s mouth twitched.  
  
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “Come on, it’s your turn to pick the holodrama tonight.”  
  
“It is not!” Zeb said. “It’s my turn.”  
  
“You chose last time, Zeb, remember? We watched that holo about the spice trader and his girlfriend,” Kanan said.  
  
“Oh, right,” Zeb said with a sigh. He loved a good story about forbidden romance. “Okay, fine. Hera chooses. But it better not be like the last one you chose!”  
  
“What’s wrong with heist holos?” Hera countered.  
  
“Nothing, if they’re good!” Zeb said. “I didn’t like how those smugglers got away with stealing from those poor people.”  
  
“Zeb, _we’re_ smugglers.”  
  
“We’re good smugglers! The ones in that holo were just in it for the money. And I like happy endings.”  
  
“That romance we watched last time didn’t have a happy ending!”  
  
“Come on, you two,” Kanan interrupted, a grin on his face. “I’m sure we can find something we all like.”  
  
“Okay, fine. Only holos with happy endings unless Zeb chooses it, and then they can be sad endings,” Hera said sarcastically.  
  
“Exactly,” Zeb said with satisfaction.  
  
Hera rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. The three of them had been so lonely for so long, Zeb thought. It was good to have someone to argue with again.  


* * *

  
Hera loved Kanan’s hair. She had always been fascinated by human hair. It didn’t have any sensory properties, like lekku, it was just…there. Just for decorative purposes, as far as she could tell.  
  
She loved feeling Kanan’s scratchy beard when he kissed her, although sometimes it tickled and made her giggle. She especially enjoyed the soft noise he would make when they were kissing and she carded her hand through his hair, giving a gentle tug.  
  
But she also loved his hair when they weren’t kissing. She loved seeing it when he had just gotten out of the shower, and he pulled the damp strands back into his customary ponytail. She loved it when hairs would escape from the ponytail, framing his face. And she loved it when his hair was down at the end of the day, and Kanan would let her sit behind him on his bunk, just running her fingers through it.  
  
Kanan had handed her a brush tonight, and she was enjoying pulling it through his hair gently and rhythmically, marveling at how it smoothed and shone.  
  
“I haven’t had anyone brush my hair since I was a youngling,” Kanan said softly. “It’s nice.”  
  
“Mmm,” Hera hummed happily. Kanan huffed a soft laugh.  
  
“I think your lekku are beautiful, too,” he said.  
  
Hera paused, and placed the brush down on the bunk beside her. Twi’lek women were generally coveted for the delicate structure of their faces and body types. Lekku were typically curiosities for other lifeforms, proof of her species’ exoticism. She had never heard any non-Twi’lek refer to lekku as beautiful, just for their own sake.  
  
“Did I say something wrong?” Kanan asked anxiously, turning around on his bunk to face her. He had been very respectful of her lekku, careful not to touch them or kiss them even when they were alone together. Hera had wondered, in the back of her mind, if he was put off by them, if he had wished she were more human…  
  
“No,” she said. “You just…surprised me a bit. I’ve never heard a human say that.”  
  
“Hera, I think everything about you is beautiful,” Kanan said earnestly, grabbing her hands. She looked down at his tan hands, clasping her green ones.  
  
“Would you – would you like to,” Hera sighed, then broke his grasp and turned around on the bunk so she was facing away from him. “You can touch them, if you like,” she said quietly.  
  
Kanan drew a sharp intake of breath. Lekku held a special place in Twi’lek culture. Touching another’s lekku was the kind of intimate practice reserved for lovers and family.  
  
Hera felt a light brush of Kanan’s fingers on her right lek. She shivered as the feel of his touch sent tingles through the rest of her body.  
  
“Is that okay?” Kanan asked softly.  
  
“Yes,” she whispered. “More than okay.”  
  
He stroked her right and then her left lek gently. Kera felt as if her whole body was on fire, every inch of her singing with his touch. She gasped when she felt the brush of his lips against her left lek.  
  
“You’re sure this is alright?” Kanan asked, his breath hot next to her ear.  
  
“Uh-huh,” Hera said, noticing her voice was a little higher pitched than usual. “It’s good.”  
  
She could almost hear Kanan’s smile behind her, the wide, bright one he reserved for when he knew he was making her happy.  
  
“Okay,” he whispered. Hera closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is great for me because I get to unveil some of my favorite minor headcanons: Hera is extremely competitive, Zeb is a romantic (in this house we ship Kalluzeb so that may materialize later), and Kanan is very into consent (we have no choice but to stan). Per the Star Wars wiki, lekku are sensory appendages and touching them is extremely intimate, so that just adds another layer of fun as I bumble through writing romantic scenes.  
>   
> Since this was structured differently from previous chapters, I'd really love to know what you think! Comments and kudos water my crops, clear my skin and add five years to my life.


	10. Ghosts and Spectres

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every team needs a good code name. Kanan, Hera, Zeb and Chopper become the Spectres.

“I think we need code names,” Kanan said. They were in hyperspace on the way to the Christoph system, pursuing an Imperial convoy set to resupply the Empire’s base on Christophsis. They still had a few hours until their arrival, and had gathered in the kitchen to drink caf and go over the plan again.  
  
“Code names?” Hera asked. Zeb nodded thoughtfully.  
  
“That’s a good idea,” Zeb said.  
  
“We can’t keep referring to each other by name out on the field, especially when we’re separated,” Kanan explained. “We’re taking bigger jobs now, and it’s more likely that we’ll be caught.”  
  
There was a pause as the three of them thought uneasily about their next job. It was a small convoy, only delivering foodstuffs to the planet, but it would still require Kanan, Zeb and Chopper to board an Imperial ship while Hera mowed down any TIEs accompanying it.  
  
“Makes sense,” Hera said after a beat. “Do you have any ideas?”  
  
“I was thinking we could maybe go by ‘Spectre,’” Kanan said nervously. He had been thinking about this for a while, ruminating on their jobs when he should be sleeping, and was somewhat proud when he thought of an appropriate name.  
  
“Fits the theme,” Hera said.  
  
“I like it,” Zeb agreed.  
  
“Okay, so Hera would be ‘Spectre One,’ I’d be ‘Spectre Two,’ Zeb would be ‘Spectre Three,’ and Chopper would be ‘Spectre Four.’” Kanan continued. Chopper beeped indignantly. Hera laughed.  
  
“Chop says he should be Spectre Two because he was on the _Ghost_ before you were,” Hera translated. Kanan admirably restrained himself from rolling his eyes.  
  
“I can be Spectre Four,” Zeb said, inclining his head graciously. “It’s only fair we do it in order of joining the ship.”  
  
“Sure,” Kanan said. “Okay, so, Hera is Spectre One and Chopper is Spectre Two, I’m Spectre Three, Zeb is Spectre Four.”  
  
They settled into an agreeable silence as they sipped their caf, or in Zeb’s case, some kind of odd herbal tea he said reminded him of Lasan.  
  
“Kanan, I think you should be Spectre One,” Hera said suddenly.  
  
“What? No, that doesn’t make sense,” Kanan said, almost alarmed. “You’re the captain.”  
  
“We all know I’m the captain. But you’re the one who’s out in the field more often. You take point on most of our missions,” Hera said.  
  
“Maybe, but you’re the one with the rebel contacts. You’re the one who brought us all into this fight,” Kanan argued. He turned to Zeb. “Zeb, back me up here.”  
  
Zeb frowned thoughtfully.  
  
“I think Hera has a point, Kanan. You’re our leader in the field,” Zeb said.  
  
Kanan scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck in frustration. Why didn’t they understand – he didn’t deserve this?  
  
“Kanan, I don’t care about who is labeled what when we’re out in the field,” Hera said gently, laying a hand on his. “And this isn’t just my mission and my ship anymore. It’s our mission. Our ship.”  
  
Kanan sighed and Hera squeezed his hand.  
  
“You deserve this, love,” Hera said softly. Kanan felt his insides twist. Sometimes he wondered if Hera was a little Force-sensitive — she always seemed to know what he was thinking, always seemed to know what to say to make it better.  
  
“It’s really not a big deal,” Zeb said, but his voice was gentle. “They’re just code names.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Kanan said after a pause. “I’ll be Spectre One. Hera is Spectre Two, Chop is Spectre Three, and Zeb’s Spectre Four.”  
  
“It’s settled, then,” Zeb said. “’The Spectres.’ I like it. Makes us sound like we’re in a holodrama.”  
  
“Theatricality, that’s what really matters here,” Hera said drily. But Zeb had a point, Kanan thought. With a name, they weren’t just a disjointed band of smugglers, they were a team with a purpose.  
  
_Spectre One._ He rolled the phrase around in his mind, internally glowing with pride and appreciation that Hera and Zeb believed he had earned his place as a leader. He thought suddenly of Master Billaba, and how she would see him now.  
  
For the first time in over a decade, thinking about his former master wasn’t accompanied by a permeating sense of guilt and shame. He thought, just maybe, she would like the man he had become.  


* * *

  
Kanan knocked gently on Hera’s door. They had successfully raided the convoy in the Christoph system and were now on the Corellian Run on the way to Ryloth. The Twi’lek home planet was an Imperial protectorate, but it had groups of rebel cells. The provisions they had taken would be going to assist a group of dissidents on the planet. Hera would pilot the _Ghost_ through the Empire’s minimal blockade around the planet, and then Zeb and Kanan would take the Phantom down for the delivery.  
  
Hera had slipped into her room when they had jumped into hyperspace, barely saying anything to Kanan or Zeb. Kanan didn’t know much about Hera’s past, only bits and pieces, but he could tell traveling to Ryloth was eating at her. As someone who kept his own past closely guarded, he didn’t mind. He knew Hera would speak to him when she was ready.  
  
“Come in,” Hera said. She was lying on her bunk when he entered, facing the wall. “You know you don’t have to knock.”  
  
“I know,” Kanan said. “Want to move over a little?”  
  
Hera shifted closer towards the wall, giving Kanan room to lie on the bunk next to her. She turned around and faced him.  
  
“That was some pretty impressive fighting in the Christoph system, Spectre One,” Hera said with a smile. Kanan huffed a laugh. He and Zeb had pretty easily disabled the small crew of the ship carrying the foodstuffs, and left the ship drifting in the Christoph system after Hera had destroyed their escort of three TIEs.  
  
“Made possible by your excellent flying, Spectre Two,” he replied. She smiled at him. He placed his arm around her waist and waited for her to say what was on her mind, if she wanted. Kanan had closed his eyes and almost fallen asleep when she spoke.  
  
“I know I’m not actually landing on Ryloth, but it feels weird to be going back to that system,” she said. “I haven’t been back there since before Gorse.”  
  
“Weird in a bad way?” Kanan asked.  
  
“Not exactly,” she said. “Just thinking about my father. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”  
  
Hera had told Kanan before that Cham Syndulla was her father, but she didn't like to talk about her past on Ryloth. He didn’t know much about the elder Syndulla, except that he had fought alongside the Jedi during the Clone Wars - and, for some reason, he didn't approve of his daughter's work for the rebellion.  
  
“You’re not going to meet him; we’re only resupplying a small rebel cell,” Hera continued. “But still, it’s odd to think about him. I’ve gone to so many systems and done so much, and he’s still just there. Fighting for Ryloth, as always.”  
  
“Do you miss him?” Kanan asked.  
  
“Sometimes. But I miss the man I knew as a child. He began pulling away long before I left Ryloth, after my mother died,” Hera said.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“It was a long time ago,” Hera said with a sad smile. “But my parents, they were very much in love. When my mother died during an Imperial raid, my father became even more determined to take the Empire down. He didn’t know how to relate to me without my mother there – the two of us were always arguing, and she would calm us both down – and freeing Ryloth became more important than raising his daughter.”  
  
Hera’s voice was calm, accepting. It was clear that she was hurt, but the pain was so old and so familiar that she didn’t seem register it anymore. Kanan had avoided his pain for a decade; Hera seemed to have accepted hers as an unchangeable part of her, a wound that would always burn.  
  
“I was okay, I had Chopper to keep me company,” Hera continued. “But I left as soon as I could do join the larger rebel movement. My father was always so focused on Ryloth. I wanted to help the families who had suffered under the Empire throughout the galaxy.”  
  
“That should've made him proud of you,” Kanan said quietly. He still didn't understand how anyone could look at Hera, look at everything she had done, and not be awed by her strength and compassion. Hera smiled again, but the expression didn’t reach her green eyes.  
  
“He's still disappointed in me, i think. He didn’t understand why I spent so much time fixing Chopper, or why I wanted to leave Ryloth. Ryloth was his entire life, so he couldn’t see why it didn’t consume my life as well,” she said.  
  
Kanan moved his hand to stroke her face.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said again.  
  
“It is what it is. I couldn’t change him and he couldn’t change me,” Hera said. “Thank you, though. For being here. For listening.”  
  
Kanan closed the gap between them and gave her a soft kiss.  
  
“Always,” he whispered.  
  
“I was so used to being alone. I thought I’d always be alone, just me and Chopper. Then I met you,” she said. “You make me feel like I have a family again.”  
  
“You do have a family. Me, Zeb, Chopper. The Spectres,” Kanan replied.  
  
“The Spectres,” Hera repeated softly. She closed her eyes. “It’s a couple of hours until we get to Ryloth. Want to stay here? Take a nap with me?”  
  
Kanan smiled.  
  
“There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he said, gently kissing her forehead before lying his head back down and closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped most of the action in this chapter in favor of quieter character moments, because hey, that's what we all come to fanfic for, right? I, personally, had always wondered why Kanan was Spectre One when Hera was technically the captain, so this is my explanation for it. I also wanted to have a scene where Kanan comforts Hera. Kanan is Hera's rock just as much as she is his.  
>   
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are the sunshine of my life. (That sounds melodramatic, but my life is sorta dark right now, so it's only slightly hyperbolic.)


	11. A ghost in steel armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After painting a wall in the Lothal capital city, Sabine Wren meets someone new.

Sabine stepped back to admire her artwork. She imagined her father standing behind her, a hand on her shoulder, praising her use of color and choice of subject. He had always been the most supportive of her passion for art. Sometimes she missed her family so much that it hurt. Even beskar steel couldn’t shield her from the blow she felt when they abandoned her.  
  
Sabine had been painting starbirds more often since she split up with Ketsu – or, more accurately, since Ketsu split up with her. Sabine always loved the symbolism of the starbird: eternal, undying, born and reborn a thousand times in the glowing heart of a star. When the ache in her chest seemed too much to bear, she would think of the starbird, forged in fire and flying proudly.  
  
“That’s pretty,” a voice said behind her. Sabine whirled around and pointed her blaster at the source of the voice, a human male who had his hands raised in the universal language of “please don’t shoot.” He wasn’t wearing insignia that indicated he was an Imp, but you could never be too sure, particularly in the capital city of Lothal. There were spies everywhere.  
  
“What do you want?” Sabine asked.  
  
“Nothing. Just admiring the artwork,” the man said. He was tall, with tan skin and striking turquoise eyes. He had a blaster, but it was holstered; his hands remained up, palms empty. “That a starbird?” he asked.  
  
Sabine nodded, but didn’t lower her blaster. The last thing she needed was to have some local run off to the nearest buckethead and tell them about the Mando desecrating the wall.  
  
“I always liked the story of the starbird,” the man continued conversationally. Despite being backed against a wall in a narrow alley with a blaster pointed at his head, he seemed completely at ease. “Renewal in the heart of a nova. There’s something beautiful in the idea of rebirth, don’t you think? Dying and becoming something new.”  
  
This guy was weird.  
  
“What do you want?” Sabine asked again.  
  
“I just want to have a conversation with the artist who’s been driving the Imps crazy over the past few weeks with her work,” the man said. “That mural you did on the outside wall of Del’s Cantina was my personal favorite. Painting a herd of Loth cats tackling bucketheads? Inspired.”  
  
“I saw a trooper chasing a Loth cat from his landspeeder and, well, I couldn’t resist,” Sabine said.  
  
“They paint over your work, and you just put up a new one in a different place,” the man said admiringly.  
  
“I’m in the business of annoying the Empire,” Sabine said.  
  
“No one said resistance couldn’t be entertaining,” the man said. “Could you maybe lower that blaster now?”  
  
Sabine definitely did not lower her blaster.  
  
“Depends on who you are,” she replied.  
  
“My name is Kanan Jarrus. I work with a crew on a ship called the _Ghost_. You could say we’re also in the business of annoying the Empire,” the man, Kanan, said. “I’m not going to turn you in.”  
  
Sabine snorted.  
  
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” she said, but she still lowered her blaster. After the last few years, she should know better than to trust anyone, but there was something about Kanan that she couldn’t quite place. Somehow, she knew he was telling the truth.  
  
“Have you been following me?” Sabine asked.  
  
“Following your work. You’ve been active in this neighborhood recently. Meeting you here was just luck,” Kanan said. “Speaking of, why are you painting in this alley? Not like the Imps are going to see it down here.”  
  
They were in a seedier neighborhood of the city, with poor infrastructure and poorer residents. It was mostly empty during the day, with laborers returning from their punishing long after dark. The Imperial government didn’t really bother with this sector – why try to control an area that has already been defeated by circumstance?  
  
“I don’t do all of my artwork for the Empire’s benefit,” Sabine said. “The people in this neighborhood – they don’t have a lot of hope. No one has cared about them for a long time, even before the Empire.”  
  
“You’re painting the starbird to give them hope,” Kanan said.  
  
“A lot of the people in this neighborhood work in the Imperial facilities as factory workers, or cooks, or cleaners. They work all day for people who don’t care about them,” Sabine said. “When they walk down this alley tonight coming home from work, they’ll see that they aren’t alone.” Sabine paused. “At least, that’s what I hope they’ll see.”  
  
Sabine suddenly had the uncomfortable sense that Kanan could see her face behind her helmet. That obviously wasn’t possible, but there was something odd about his penetrating gaze, like he could sense her thoughts and emotions swirling around her. She belatedly realized that she had given a stranger far too much information about herself and her motives. Time to make a quick exit.  
  
“I’m going to go now,” she said. “It was – interesting to meet you, Kanan Jarrus.”  
  
“Wait,” Kanan called as she began to walk away. She turned around to face him again, even though almost everything inside of her was telling her to get far away from him as fast as possible. But there was an even deeper instinct behind those impulses, something that told her she should listen to this strange man, that he really could be trusted.  
  
“That crew that I mentioned before – we could use another member,” he said. “I think you could be a good addition.”  
  
“You don’t know anything about me,” Sabine said.  
  
“An artist’s work says a lot about her,” Kanan replied. “So does your Mandalorian armor and quick reflexes with that blaster.”  
  
“You don’t even know my name,” Sabine said. Kanan shrugged.  
  
“I don’t have to know someone’s name to know what kind of person they are,” he said.  
  
Sabine cocked her head to the side.  
  
“You’re pretty weird,” she said. Kanan laughed.  
  
“I’ve been told,” he said. “Why don’t you come and meet my crew. You don’t have to make any commitments, and if you decide you’d rather work alone, we’ll understand.”  
  
Sabine frowned behind her helmet. Even if she didn’t want to join Kanan’s crew, and she almost definitely wouldn’t, it might still be useful to have anti-Empire allies on Lothal.  
  
“Fine,” she said after a beat. “I’ll meet your crew. But I’m not making any promises.”  
  
Kanan inclined his head. “I wouldn’t want you to,” he said.  
  
The two of them were walking out of the alley towards the street when Kanan suddenly stiffened and paused.  
  
“Wait,” he whispered. “I think we have company.”  
  
He edged along the wall on one side of the alley, then poked his head out when he reached the street. He quickly withdrew his head as blaster fire blew off a chunk of the wall.  
  
“I guess I’m not the only one who’s been following your work,” Kanan said with a smile.  
  
“Bucketheads never come down here!” Sabine hissed.  
  
“Tell that to the four who are waiting for you in the street,” Kanan said drily.  
  
“Only four? I’m a bit insulted,” Sabine said.  
  
“Join my team and you’ll have plenty more troopers chasing you, trust me,” Kanan grinned. “They’re in formation on the other side of the street, facing this way from the east. I’ll take the two on the right and – ”  
  
“I have a better idea,” Sabine interrupted, pulling a smoke bomb out of her utility belt. “I’m not really one for battles of attrition.”  
  
She walked to the edge of the alley and tossed the bomb in the direction of the blaster fire which had been aimed at Kanan’s head. Smoke filled the street, and she could hear the troopers coughing. She entered the street, able to see four lifeforms in the smoke through her visor. Honestly, it was almost too easy. Four quick shots from her blaster and the troopers were incapacitated, on the ground before the smoke even cleared.  
  
Kanan emerged from the alley, coughing.  
  
“Not all of us have a helmet, you know,” he said.  
  
“Helmets didn’t help them,” Sabine replied, gesturing to the prone figures in the middle of the street.  
  
“Their helmets aren’t Mandalorian, lucky for us,” Kanan said. “Come on, let’s get out of here. There will be more of them coming soon.”  
  
Sabine joined Kanan as they started walking away from the troopers and the fading cloud of smoke.  
  
“Where’d you get that bomb?” Kanan asked.  
  
“Made it,” Sabine answered casually.  
  
“Yeah, I definitely think there’s a place for you on our crew,” Kanan said. He broke into a jog after they turned a corner.  
  
“Hey, you have to prove yourself to me now,” Sabine said, quickly catching up to him. “I’m Sabine, by the way. Sabine Wren.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, Sabine Wren,” Kanan replied, shooting her a smile.  
  
She grinned back behind her helmet and thought of the starbird drying on the wall in the alley. She could almost hear its wings beating next to her as they ran to Kanan’s ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sabine!!! I love Sabine so much. I'm such a sucker for found family tropes, but I really love how every member of the Ghost family feels broken and abandoned in some way. Together, they help each other heal.  
>   
> Also I just love the idea of Kanan finding Sabine and bringing her to the crew. I tried to show a little bit of how weird Force wielders can seem to non-Force users, particularly since Sabine has no clue Kanan is a former Jedi. I just love the idea of Sabine being like, "you're super weird but I'm just gonna roll with it."  
>   
> I'm really excited to explore the crew's dynamic after they add Spectre Five! This is also when Hera and Kanan begin to become space parents, because now they have a teenage daughter.  
>   
> As always, let me know what you think of this chapter! I love seeing your reactions after every update. I <3 my readers.


	12. Give up the ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine talks to Hera about her place on the ship.

Hera often reflected on how much her life had changed in such a short period of time. Three years ago, the _Ghost_ had seemed almost cavernous, as she flew alone with only Chopper for company. Now the ship was comfortably crowded with a ragtag crew of amateur rebels, the halls ringing with constant joking and arguing and planning the next mission.  
  
Hera didn’t get much alone time anymore, but she didn’t mind. She hadn’t realized how lonely she was until she met Kanan, and the hole in her heart was filled a bit more with every addition to the crew. Still, it was nice to sit alone in the cockpit sometimes, just her and Chopper and the _Ghost_.  
  
Hera absentmindedly put her hand on top of Chopper’s dome. He was standing next to the pilot’s seat like a sentry, his familiar presence a comfort as she watched the ship swirl through hyperspace.  
  
“I think I’m happy, Chop,” Hera said. The droid beeped a question. “I mean, I just feel content. Like I have everything I need,” she answered. “I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.”  
  
Chopper beeped again. _I’m happy you’re happy._  
  
“We’ve come a long way from Ryloth,” Hera said. “We have a family now.”  
  
Chopper beeped the astromech equivalent of a snort.  
  
“Don’t give me that, you do too like Kanan and Zeb,” Hera admonished. “Well, you like torturing them, at least.”  
  
The droid beeped sulkily. Hera laughed and leaned over to kiss the top of his dome.  
  
“You know I'll always love you, Chop,” she said. Chopper purred.  
  
The doors to the cockpit opened.  
  
“Hey, Hera?” Sabine's voice said hesitantly from behind her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”  
  
“Sure,” Hera said, gesturing to the co-pilot’s seat. Sabine sat down next to her. The Mandalorian teenager had only been with them for a couple weeks, but Hera thought she had found her niche in the crew easily. Sabine had also beaten Hera once – _once_ – in dejarik, much to Zeb and Kanan’s delight.  
  
“What’s up?” Hera asked. Sabine looked uncharacteristically nervous.  
  
“I was wondering if I could maybe decorate the room I’m staying in,” Sabine said shyly. “You can always wash off the paint when I leave.”  
  
“Sabine, of course you can paint your room. You can paint wherever you want. This is your home now, just as much as anyone else,” Hera said firmly.  
  
Sabine’s eyes widened with surprise.  
  
“Hera, are you sure?”  
  
“Of course. The _Ghost_ could use some color,” Hera replied. “I only ask that you let me know first if you want to paint my room.”  
  
Sabine grinned.  
  
“What about painting Chopper?” she asked mischievously. Chopper beeped indignantly as Hera laughed.  
  
“Well, we already paint him to look like an Empire droid when we go on missions, although that can be your job now. As for painting him when we’re off mission, well, you’d have to ask him,” Hera said.  
  
Chopper waved his mechanical arms and beeped threateningly, implying that there would be trouble if Sabine tried to touch his orange dome.  
  
“I’m just kidding, Chopper,” Sabine smiled. The droid retracted his arms but continued grumbling.  
  
“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about, Sabine?” Hera asked. Sabine hesitated.  
  
“I just – I don’t know how much longer I’m going to stay here, that’s all. I mean, I like working with you, and I’m grateful you offered me a place on your ship, but – ” Sabine sighed, “I’m used to being alone.”  
  
“Sabine, the _Ghost_ is your home for as long as you want it to be. If you wanted to paint the entire ship and leave tomorrow, we’d understand,” Hera said gently. “And if you did decide to go, we would still be there for you whenever you asked. You would always be welcome here.”  
  
Sabine’s eyes brimmed with tears. She looked away and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Hera waited quietly, listening to the _Ghost_ hum in the background.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to trusting people anymore,” Sabine said thickly, still looking away.  
  
“Don’t be sorry. You’ll find everyone on this ship struggles with that sometimes,” Hera said. Sabine turned her head again and smiled weakly.  
  
“I was in the Imperial academy on Mandalore. When I decided to leave, and speak out against the Empire, my family didn’t stand with me,” Sabine said, her voice calmer. “My own family exiled me.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Hera said quietly.  
  
“I escaped the academy with my friend, and we worked together for a while as bounty hunters. But she was only in it for the credits, and when a job went bad, she left me behind,” Sabine continued. “I’ve been on my own ever since.”  
  
Hera’s heart ached with sympathy. Sabine was so young – too young to feel so much pain. She knew the feeling of having your own parent turn against you, although she couldn’t imagine being cast out for refusing to support the Empire.  
  
“Sabine, I know it’s hard for you to trust us, but I promise that we won’t leave you behind,” Hera said. Sabine huffed a laugh that turned into a soft sob.  
  
“You can’t promise that,” she said.  
  
“I can,” Hera said. They sat quietly for a few moments.  
  
“Kanan told me he was a Jedi,” Sabine said softly, changing the subject. “I didn’t think there were any Jedi left.”  
  
“As far as we know, he’s the only one,” Hera said.  
  
“I was raised not to trust Jedi. The Mandalorians fought against them, a long time ago. And the Jedi couldn’t help us when Mandalore fell to the Empire. They couldn’t even help themselves,” Sabine said.  
  
“Does Kanan’s past make it harder for you to trust us?” Hera asked. Sabine sighed.  
  
“It probably would have even a year ago. But I’ve realized that there are only two sides now: with the Empire, and against it,” she said. “Anyone who fights with me is my ally.”  
  
“Spoken like a true Mandalorian.”  
  
“I haven’t felt like a true Mandalorian in a long time,” Sabine shook her head.  
  
“When I left Ryloth, a part of me felt like I was betraying my people,” Hera said thoughtfully. “But I fight for the Twi’lek people every day by resisting the Empire. You’re fighting for your people too, even if you’re not on Mandalore. And Zeb is fighting for the Lasat, and Kanan is fighting for the Jedi, even though their people are gone.”  
  
Hera reached across the space between their seats and put her hand on Sabine’s.  
  
“I’m glad you joined us, Sabine,” she said, squeezing Sabine’s hand before releasing it.  
  
“I had almost stopped believing there were still good people out there,” Sabine said quietly, looking at her hands. “You, Kanan and Zeb are proving me wrong.”  
  
“Good,” Hera said. “Kanan told me your paintings were beautiful. I can’t wait to see how you decorate the ship.”  
  
Sabine smiled. “I can see why he loves you,” she said. Hera hadn’t explicitly told Sabine that she and Kanan were together, but she supposed it was hard to miss.  
  
“He’s a good man. With good taste,” Hera said with a smile. Sabine laughed.  
  
“Maybe I will stay on the _Ghost_ for a little bit longer than I planned,” Sabine said. “Someone needs to be here to kick your butt at dejarik.”  
  
“That was one time,” Hera said. “You caught me on a bad day.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure,” Sabine teased. She stood up from the copilot’s seat and walked towards the door.  
  
“Thank you, Hera,” Sabine said before opening the door, her voice almost too quiet to hear, but full of sincerity.  
  
Hera smiled and placed her hand back on Chopper’s dome, watching the spiral of hyperspace through the window.  
  
“You’re welcome,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We had our Sabine and Kanan chapter, so we needed a Sabine and Hera chapter! I just love how the Ghost crew really is a family. Of course Sabine would find it difficult to trust again, but Hera would give her the space and the support to know that she has a home. Sabine's about 15 when she joins the Ghost in my headcanon. She's so young, and she's already experienced so much trauma! Everyone on the Ghost knows what it's like to be literally traumatized, and they would be there for her.  
>   
> I also liked imagining Hera's conversation with Chopper. Chop understands Hera in a way no one else can, since he's known her for such a long time. I feel like she'd take comfort in that.  
>   
> There's a part of me that feels guilty about updating this fic so quickly, because I should technically be working right now (whoops). But one of the side benefits of my job is that I'm a pretty fast writer, so I can easily sneak in writing fic in between writing for work.  
>   
> Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! I'm so grateful to every reader. You guys are the absolute best.


	13. Ghosts of what could have been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan and Hera have a late-night conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freely admit that this is a shorter chapter that is pure fluff, which hopefully is the kind of thing you enjoy!

Kanan still thought about his master every day, although remembering her was not as painful as it had once been. He missed her deeply, even over a decade after her death.  
  
When he was younger and usually drunker, Kanan would often imagine what his life would be like without the Empire. The Clone Wars would have ended and he would have finished his training. By now, he probably would have gone through the trials and emerged as Jedi Knight Caleb Dume. He might even have his own padawan.  
  
Now, on the rare occasions when Kanan indulged thoughts of where he would be without the Empire, he wondered if it would truly be the better life. It would certainly be better for the galaxy: the Republic and the Jedi would remain intact, and millions of lifeforms would not be subjugated by the Empire.  
  
But where would he be? If he were Jedi Knight Caleb Dume, he probably would never have met Hera, and even if he had, being together would have been impossible. The thought of a life without her was like an iron fist around his heart. Without the Empire, Kanan wouldn’t have his family on the _Ghost_. Sabine, Zeb, Hera, himself – all of them had lost so much, but they had also gained each other.  
  
He had no idea what his life might have looked like as a Jedi. Maybe he would just be policing local gangs in the underbelly of Coruscant or on the Outer Rim. Maybe he was doing more good for the galaxy as Kanan Jarrus than as Caleb Dume.  
  
Kanan always felt as if he was betraying Master Billaba and all the Jedi by thinking this way. Obviously, the galaxy would be better without the Empire. But was he a better man with it?  
  
“You’re thinking too hard,” Hera mumbled. Kanan turned his head to look at her lying on her side next to him. He had thought she was asleep.  
  
“Your eyes are closed,” Kanan said. “How can you tell?”  
  
“The way you’re breathing,” Hera said, voice partially muffled by the pillow under her head. “You take deeper breaths when you think complicated things.”  
  
“Complicated things?” Kanan said with amusement. “I also take deep breaths when I’m sleeping.”  
  
“Those are different,” Hera said. “And you snore.”  
  
“I do _not_ snore,” Kanan said, affronted.  
  
“After we leave a planet with lots of grass you snore,” Hera persisted. Her eyes were still closed, but she was smiling faintly.  
  
“I have allergies,” Kanan said defensively.  
  
“Whatever you say, dear,” Hera said. She opened her eyes and placed a hand on Kanan’s cheek. “Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about?”  
  
Kanan sighed. “Sometimes I think I’m a terrible person,” he said. Hera rolled her eyes. “Hey! I’m serious,” Kanan said.  
  
“I don’t mean to be insensitive, love, but you always think you’re a terrible person and it’s usually for a dumb reason,” Hera said.  
  
“Don’t hold back, Hera, tell me how you really feel,” Kanan retorted.  
  
“I’m too tired to be nice right now,” Hera said, but her tone was slightly apologetic. “Tell me what’s going on with you so we can go to sleep and wake up nice people again.”  
  
Kanan laughed gently. He lifted Hera’s hand from his cheek and kissed it softly.  
  
“How can I resist your beautiful way with words,” he teased. He turned so he was also lying on his side, facing Hera, and draped an arm over her waist.  
  
“Sometimes I think about what life would be like without the Empire. If my master hadn’t died and I completed my training. How much better things would be,” Kanan said. Hera stiffened under his touch. Her face was arranged into a careful mask of concern, but he could tell he had said something wrong.  
  
“But then I think, without the Empire, I wouldn’t have everything I have now. I wouldn’t have the crew. I wouldn’t have you,” Kanan said, rushing to get the words out before she could misunderstand his meaning. “And without you – I don’t think I could live in a galaxy without you. So in a way, I’m almost happy the Empire exists – I mean, not _happy_ , obviously,” Kanan sighed and closed his eyes, “I’m not saying this well.”  
  
“Keep trying,” Hera said quietly. Kanan opened his eyes.  
  
“I love you, Hera,” he whispered. “Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I would never have met you without the worst thing that ever happened to the galaxy.”  
  
Hera pushed the strands of hair which had fallen in front of his eyes behind his ear. She then gently laid her hand on his cheek, and leaned over to give him a soft kiss.  
  
“You’re not a terrible person, Kanan,” she said. “I think about it sometimes too.”  
  
“You do?”  
  
“Yes. And I also feel guilty for being so happy when everything in the galaxy is so terrible. But we have to take that happiness where we can get it and appreciate it for as long as it lasts,” Hera said. “We have a family now, Kanan. That’s what matters.”  
  
Kanan’s heart thudded in his chest. Hera had never specifically told Kanan that she loved him. He didn’t mind saying it to her and not receiving a response; he knew from his time with the Jedi that people processed and expressed love in different ways. When he told her he loved her, it was because he needed her to know how he felt, not because he expected her to respond in the same way.  
  
Kanan knew that Hera loved him, because she showed him every day in small ways. And sometimes she would say something so perfect that it overwhelmed him completely.  
  
We have a family now. _We_ have a family now.  
  
“You’re doing that thinking thing again,” Hera said wryly.  
  
“Bad habit,” Kanan replied with a smile. “I’m sorry, I’m ready to go to sleep now. For real.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Hera asked, her voice playful. “We can stay up, share some ghost stories – ”  
  
He interrupted her with a kiss. Her soft lips parted slightly under his.  
  
“I’m sure,” he whispered as he pulled away. He kept his arm around her when he closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just need a little (okay, a lot) of fluff in your life. It's a dark time in our galaxy as well as in the GFFA, and we need some comfort for all that hurt. This is a shorter chapter, but I felt like it needed its own space.  
>   
> I just really like writing conversations between Hera and Kanan. To me, nothing is sexier than a relationship built on mutual trust and frequent communication! Whenever I write dialogue between them, I like to imagine their voices in my head, to test if it sounds genuine. It's a fun exercise. And little does Kanan know, he soon will have his own padawan...  
>   
> Thank you all for reading these little vignettes of our Space Family. If I could, I would send every reader a freshly baked cookie of your choosing. In lieu of that, accept my heartfelt appreciation <3


	14. Ghost stories II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More scenes of life on the Ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an interlude of sorts, like chapter nine was - just a series of short scenes from life with the Ghost family.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” Sabine taunted, opening her arms wide right before Zeb punched her in the stomach. She doubled over and raised her hand, signaling the need for a time out.  
  
“Are you alright?” Zeb asked, concerned. He put a large hand on her shoulder, and while his touch was as gentle as it could be, it almost sent her sprawling to the ground.  
  
“Yeah, I’m good,” Sabine said, wheezing slightly. “Good hit.”  
  
“That’s what you get for gloating when you should have been watching for your opponent’s next move,” Kanan said, observing their training session while leaning against the cargo bay wall.  
  
“Thanks for the commentary,” Sabine said, standing upright again. “Seriously, Zeb, I’m fine,” she assured the Lasat, who was looking at her with deep concern.  
  
“You want to be a better fighter, don’t you?” Kanan said.  
  
“Why don’t you come over here and we’ll find out who’s the better fighter,” Sabine retorted.  
  
She complained, but one of the things Sabine liked best about being on the _Ghost_ was the chance to spar with a Lasat and a Jedi. Sabine knew she was a good fighter, but in sparring with Zeb, she could face a (much) larger opponent than she was used to fighting. Meanwhile, Zeb was learning how to fight someone smaller and faster, for situations when brute strength and a bo-rifle wouldn’t be enough.  
  
Kanan didn’t normally use the Force when he was sparring with Sabine and Zeb, but he had the incredible reflexes of a Jedi. It was almost as if he could sense Sabine’s moves before she even made them.  
  
Hera didn’t spar with them, although sometimes she and Chopper would come down to watch. (“I’m just the pilot,” Hera said. “I know how to throw a punch, but the rest is up to you three.”)  
  
Kanan smiled and pushed away from the wall.  
  
“Is that a challenge, Sabine?” Kanan said as he walked over, knowing the answer.  
  
“Fifty credits says I beat you hand-to-hand, no weapons,” Sabine answered.  
  
“I’ll take those odds,” Kanan said. “Zeb, you want to referee?”  
  
“Sure, but you should know I’m rooting for Sabine to beat you,” the Lasat grinned back.  
  
“Eh, I like being underestimated. Makes victory that much sweeter,” Kanan said. He was still looking at Zeb when Sabine swept his legs, causing him to fall on his back ungracefully.  
  
“Hey, we hadn’t started yet!” Kanan protested.  
  
“That’s what you get for gloating when you should have been watching for your opponent’s next move,” Sabine retorted, before reaching down a hand to help pull Kanan to his feet. “Let’s do this.”  
  


* * *

  
  
The addition of Sabine to their crew meant that there was now one more person who had the chance to pick the holodrama for their semi-regular movie nights, so it had been ages since it was Zeb’s turn. He had picked a newer holo that none of them had seen, receiving tepid enthusiasm from Kanan and Sabine. Hera, however, did not approve of patronizing the Empire’s surprisingly booming entertainment industry.  
  
“The rules are that one of us gets to choose the holo and the rest of us have to watch it, no complaints,” Zeb argued.  
  
“You complain all the time about my choices!” Hera said.  
  
“That’s because your choices are terrible,” Zeb said. “We’ve watched that old one about the Republic pilots a million times.”  
  
“First of all, we’ve watched that three times, and it’s a classic. Second of all, you’re suggesting Empire propaganda!”  
  
“It’s not propaganda, it’s a romance.”  
  
“Where the main character is an Imperial officer!”  
  
“Ugh, they’re still at it?” Sabine asked Kanan as she walked into the lounge carrying a large bowl of popcorn. She had gone to the kitchen to make the snacks, largely to avoid getting drawn into the argument.  
  
“Yep,” said Kanan, who was very studiously not looking at Zeb or Hera.  
  
“Kanan, don’t you think a crew of rebels _shouldn’t_ watch Empire propaganda?” Hera asked. Kanan sighed. Apparently looking away hadn’t worked.  
  
“Hera, it’s just a movie,” Kanan said. “We all know the Empire is bad.”  
  
“See?” Zeb said triumphantly.  
  
“But we’ll have to rent it! That’s giving credits to the Empire!” Hera argued.  
  
“Hera, I think we’ve stolen enough from the Empire that paying 15 credits won’t really make a difference,” Sabine cut in. Hera narrowed her eyes.  
  
“I see I’m overruled,” Hera said. She sat on the couch dramatically next to Kanan. “Fine, but you’re paying for it with your own credits.”  
  
“I was always planning to!” Zeb said, affronted. Sabine passed the bowl of popcorn to Hera, who took a fistful and stuffed it in her mouth.  
  
Two hours later, when Hera was crying almost as hard at Zeb over the tragic ending for the two lovers – the officer had been killed in a strike by dastardly rebels – Kanan gave her a fond kiss on the forehead. Hera glared at him.  
  
“Don’t – say – anything,” she said, her resentment made somewhat more adorable by her soft hiccupping sobs.  
  
“I didn’t!” Kanan said. “Who knew Empire propaganda could be so moving, huh?”  
  
Hera flicked his ear in retaliation.  
  


* * *

  
  
“I’ve been thinking,” Kanan said as Hera walked into his room.  
  
“That’s a dangerous way to start a conversation,” she said, pulling out a sleep shirt and her favorite lounge pants from his dresser. They slept in each other’s rooms so often that half the clothes in Kanan’s dresser were Hera’s, and vice versa.  
  
“I’ve been thinking I should start wearing my lightsaber,” Kanan said. Hera paused midway through stripping out of her flight suit, half-naked and extremely distracting.  
  
“Kanan, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said slowly. She pulled her sleep shirt over her head and stepped out of the rest of her flight suit. She sat down next to him on his bunk, her legs still bare.  
  
“Maybe most stormtroopers don’t know what a lightsaber looks like, but there are enough who do. And we’ve heard rumors about those Jedi hunters, the inquisitors,” she continued. “It could be dangerous.”  
  
“I agree,” Kanan said. “That’s why I’d carry it on my belt in two pieces. I could connect it if I needed, but otherwise no one would know what it is.”  
  
Hera pulled her legs onto the bunk and crossed them, her expression thoughtful.  
  
“That could work,” she said. “I wouldn’t have known how they connected if you hadn’t showed me.”  
  
“Exactly,” Kanan said, relieved.  
  
“Why now?” Hera asked. “You’ve never mentioned wanting to carry your lightsaber before.”  
  
“That’s because I haven’t wanted to,” Kanan said. “But we’re taking bigger missions now, and there are more of us to think about. There might come a time when we’re outnumbered and it would be good to have a Jedi there. And, well, I’m the closest thing we’ve got.”  
  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hera asked. “I know how hard it is for you to talk about your past. If you carry the lightsaber, you’ll be carrying your past with you everywhere you go.”  
  
“I do that anyway,” Kanan said, smiling sadly. “But there’s only one thing that matters to me now: protecting my crew. And I would do anything to make sure you, Zeb and Sabine are safe.”  
  
“And Chopper,” Hera teased.  
  
“Fine, and Chopper,” Kanan said. He took Hera’s hand. “I want to do this, Hera.”  
  
“Okay,” Hera said, smiling. “I’m proud of you, Kanan.”  
  
Kanan blushed and looked down. Hera tipped up his chin with her hand and guided it to face her.  
  
“I’m proud of you,” she repeated, before leaning into kiss him. Kanan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap.  
  
Of course, there was the fact that he hadn’t really used his saber in years. He’d have to study up on the training holos with Master Skywalker on his holochron.  
  
Hera carded her hand through Kanan’s hair and gave a gentle tug. Kanan smiled into the kiss.  
  
He could worry about lightsaber training later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like writing these shorter vignettes, where we get to see how the crew interacts as a family. I love the idea of Kanan, Zeb and Sabine sparring together. I also love the idea of Hera being a total movie snob who nonetheless enjoys a schlocky romance just like the rest of us (even if it is propaganda).  
>   
> I also wanted to touch on Kanan's decision to wear the saber. In the years before he meets Ezra, he begins to accept himself as a Jedi, with the help of love and support from his family. I feel like that's a choice he would make after consulting with Hera.  
>   
> Thank you to all my readers!! I live for your comments and kudos <3


	15. The ghost in your head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan has a bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: There is discussion of mental health and description of a depressive episode.

Kanan knew from the moment he opened his eyes that it was going to be a bad day. A day where his limbs were so heavy he could barely sit up, and his head was so foggy it seemed like he was surrounded by a haze of mist.  
  
These days didn’t come as frequently as they used to in the years after his master’s death, so it felt like a punch to the gut when they did happen – unexpected and brutal.  
  
Kanan turned his head to look at Hera lying next to him. She was still sleeping, her lips parted slightly. He usually loved looking at Hera while she slept, but today he had a leaden feeling in his stomach. They had a mission today, and he couldn’t fail.  
  
Kanan looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the fog of lethargy away. On days like this, his connection to the Force seemed tenuous, like he was trying to push through a veil. He needed to be sharp, aware of his surroundings. But he was wholly and utterly numb.  
  
“Kriff,” he whispered to no one in particular. He couldn’t afford to be like this right now.  
  


* * *

  
  
_It’s an easy mission,_ Kanan told himself. _Ambush the Imperial convoy. Take the supplies. Deliver to the refugee camp. Ambush the Imperial convoy. Take the supplies. Deliver to the refugee camp…_  
  
Kanan had found through the years that repetition helped him to stay focused when he had bad days, or at least, focused-adjacent. Because now it wasn’t only his own survival that was at stake. He didn’t just need to remind himself to fulfill the basic functions of living. Now, he had people counting on him – his crew, the people in that resettlement camp.  
  
“You okay?” Zeb asked quietly. He and Kanan were hiding behind one of Lothal’s tall, cylindrical rocks, waiting for the convoy of Imperial vehicles carrying supplies for the nearby base.  
  
“Yeah, fine,” Kanan said. Great, Zeb had noticed that he was off. He needed to stay sharp. Stay focused. _Ambush the Imperial convoy. Take the supplies. Deliver to the refugee camp._  
  
“You don’t seem fine,” Zeb said.  
  
“Well, I am,” Kanan replied, but his voice sounded more tired than annoyed. He couldn’t even muster the energy to properly express his frustration. _Get it together, Jarrus._  
  
_“Spectre One, I’ve spotted the convoy. It should get here in a few minutes,”_ Sabine said over the comm. She was perched on a nearby rock across the dusty road, scanning the horizon with electrobinoculars for the convoy.  
  
“Copy, Spectre Five,” Kanan replied. _Ambush the Imperial convoy. Ambush the Imperial convoy. Ambush the Imperial convoy._  
  
Kanan and Zeb waited in silence.  
  
After a few moments, they saw a group of six troopers on speeders escorting an Imperial troop transport. The transport was modified to carry cargo, but it was fair to assume there would be a few stormtroopers on board also traveling to the base.  
  
“Now, Spectre Five,” Kanan said when the speeders were in shooting distance. From her vantage point, Sabine shot the trooper on the front right side of the transport off his speeder. The trooper on the left raised his fist and the transport clumsily came to a stop.  
  
The front left trooper had barely jumped off his speeder when Sabine’s blast caught him square in the chest. The other troopers got off their speeders, pointing their blasters wildly at their surroundings. An additional three troopers jumped out of the transport, also brandishing blasters.  
  
“Spectre Five, climb down and get ready to join us on the road,” Kanan said into his comm.  
  
_“Roger that, Spectre One,”_ Sabine replied.  
  
“Ready, Zeb?” Kanan asked.  
  
“Always ready to take down bucketheads,” Zeb growled.  
  
“Then let’s go,” Kanan said. He and Zeb emerged from behind their rock and ran towards the troopers.  
  
_Ambush the Imperial convoy._ The troopers had noticed they had company. Kanan dodged blaster fire as he and Zeb ran. _Ambush the Imperial convoy._ Zeb swiftly took out a trooper with his bo-rifle. Sabine had joined the fray from the other side of the road. _Ambush the Imperial convoy._ Kanan aimed his blaster at a trooper who was targeting Sabine. He hit the trooper in the arm. _Ambush the Imperial convoy._ Kanan kneed a trooper who had tried to rush him in the stomach. _Ambush the Imperial convoy._ Aim, fire, another trooper down. _Ambush the Imperial convoy._  
  
Two more troopers emerged from the transport. Zeb got one, Sabine the other. Sudden silence. All enemies down, dust settling on their white armor.  
  
What next? _Take the supplies._  
  
“Spectre Four, start unloading the cargo from the transport. Spectre Five and I will do a sweep inside and take out anyone left,” Kanan said. “Spectre Two, get ready for pick up.”  
  
_“Copy,”_ Hera said over the comm.  
  
Kanan entered the dim transport first, his eyes needing a second to adjust after fighting in bright daylight. His heart was thundering in his chest. Adrenaline was good. It kept him sharp. Kept him focused.  
  
A sudden shot of blaster fire narrowly missed his head. There were two troopers in the front of the transport, presumably the drivers. One remained in the small vestibule of the cockpit, but the other had emerged and was shooting at his head.  
  
Kanan was slow to react, too slow. Adrenaline wasn’t enough. He lifted his blaster, but his body seemed to be moving in half-time. Sabine fired from behind him and hit the trooper in the chest. Kanan fired at the other trooper emerging from the vestibule, but missed. Sabine’s fire caught the second trooper and he toppled over next to his fallen comrade.  
  
“Are you okay?” Sabine asked. _No,_ Kanan thought.  
  
“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t see very well in here.”  
  
They pulled the smaller boxes of supplies out of the transport, placing them next to the pile created by Zeb. The _Ghost_ touched down moments later, and the crew ferried the cargo onto the ship.  
  
_Deliver to the refugee camp._  
  
They were taking the cargo to a more remote resettlement camp which wasn’t often resupplied by the Imperial government. Kanan watched the grasses of Lothal below as the _Ghost_ skimmed through the lower atmosphere. Almost done. One more step. _Deliver to the refugee camp._  
  
Kanan usually liked to chat with the refugees when they delivered supplies, but he could barely concentrate on unloading the cargo from the _Ghost_. He needed to stay sharp. Stay focused. Just one more step.  
  
Kanan retreated to the ship after the supplies were unloaded.  
  
“I have a headache,” he told Hera, who was watching him with concern. “Headache,” he told Zeb and Sabine as he passed them.  
  
_Ambush the Imperial convoy. Take the supplies. Deliver to the refugee camp._ He had done the job, but his brain kept repeating it like a mantra.  
  
“I’m done,” he muttered to himself. _Stay sharp. Stay focused._ “I’m done,” he repeated angrily to the air, frustrated with himself.  
  
He made his way to the kitchen. He could use a cup of caf. He sat down as he waited for it to brew and rested his cheek on the cool metal of the kitchen table. He didn’t get up to retrieve his caf when it was ready. He just sat there, head on the table, eyes staring blankly.  
  
_AmbushtheImperialconvoyTakethesuppliesDelivertotherefugeecampStaysharpStayfocusedStaysharpStayfocused._  
  
“Kanan?” Hera’s voice said from behind him. Kanan didn’t say anything. He was too tired.  
  
Hera walked into the kitchen, followed by Sabine and Zeb. They sat down, awkwardly positioned around the table. _We need a bigger table,_ Kanan thought vaguely. Even Chopper rolled in, uncharacteristically subdued.  
  
“Kanan, what’s wrong?” Sabine asked. With incredible effort, Kanan raised his head to look at them all.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m just – having a bad day,” he said, lamely.  
  
“We noticed that,” Zeb said, his gruff voice unusually gentle.  
  
“I’m sorry, this hasn’t happened in a while, and I just – I’m sorry if I let you down,” Kanan said. Hera, sitting next to him, took his hand in hers.  
  
“Don’t say sorry,” she murmured. “Why didn’t you tell us something was wrong?”  
  
“We had a mission. I needed to be there.”  
  
“No offense, Kanan, but Zeb and I could’ve managed without you,” Sabine said. “You could have stayed on the ship.”  
  
“No one would think less of you if you took the day off, dear,” Hera said.  
  
Underneath the numbness in his chest, Kanan could feel a spark of annoyance ignite.  
  
“We don’t get sick days,” he said. He was a leader. Leaders couldn’t let their feelings get in the way of the mission. “I’m fine. We got it done.”  
  
“If I broke my arm, would you want me out in the field?” Sabine said.  
  
“What? No,” Kanan said, thrown off by the change in subject.  
  
“Why not?” she insisted.  
  
“You would need to recover. We couldn’t risk you getting more hurt. You would join us when you were healthy again,” Kanan said. Sabine looked at him triumphantly. He vaguely realized there was a point he was supposed to be getting.  
  
“Wait – no, that’s different,” he said.  
  
“It’s not that different,” Zeb said thoughtfully. “You need to take care of yourself, Kanan. If you go out and you’re not focused, you could get hurt. Or one of us could get hurt.”  
  
“I know that, you don’t need to tell me that – ” Kanan started, but Hera interrupted him gently.  
  
“Kanan, sometimes you have bad days. That doesn’t make you any less of a leader,” she said.  
  
“Leaders don’t have bad days,” Kanan said. He tugged his hand away from Hera and ran it through his hair, nettled.  
  
“Sometimes they do,” Hera replied. “And that’s okay.”  
  
Kanan sighed and looked up at the ceiling.  
  
“How can you trust me to lead if you can’t even trust me to keep my mind straight,” Kanan said, not looking at any of them.  
  
“Because you are a good leader, even if you don’t believe it,” Sabine said. “You are always, always there for us. You have to let us be there for you sometimes.”  
  
Kanan looked at his crew. He realized with a sudden jolt that they believed in him.  
  
“Okay,” he said finally. “Yeah, okay.” Everyone else at the table seemed to visibly relax.  
  
“Next time you have a bad day, just tell us,” Zeb said.  
  
“What if it’s more than one bad day? What if I’m always like this?” Kanan asked quietly, voicing one of his worst fears.  
  
“You won’t be. But even if you were, it wouldn’t matter. We would be here for you,” Hera said.  
  
The numbness in Kanan’s chest receded a little as he was overwhelmed by the knowledge that he was loved and supported, that his crew would always be there for him.  
  
“Okay,” he said again. Hera kissed his cheek softly.  
  
“That caf you made is probably cold. I’ll make us all fresh cups,” Hera said, standing up.  
  
“I’m starving,” Zeb complained. “Could you get us some food while you’re up?”  
  
“Get it yourself,” Hera retorted. Zeb groaned and stood up.  
  
Kanan watched Zeb and Hera bantering, Sabine laughing. His crew. His family.  
  
His limbs still felt heavy, his head still foggy. But the numbness was now accompanied by an odd feeling of comfort.  
  
It was a bad day. Definitely not his first bad day, probably not his last. But he wasn’t alone.  
  
Kanan quietly watched his family make dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a bit of a personal chapter for me. I've been having a lot of "bad days" lately, and I figured one way to express those emotions is to write about them.  
>   
> Kanan has gone through a lot of trauma and has some canonical issues with mental health and depression, if you read between the lines. I thought it would be good to show how a character that strong and that good can struggle sometimes, and how it doesn't make him any less of a leader or a person. I also thought this was a good opportunity to show some of the dynamics in the Ghost crew - they're a family, and they take care of each other.  
>   
> I wrote about Kanan's depressive episode the way I experience them, with both physical and emotional symptoms. Obviously this isn't how everyone experiences depression, but hopefully some people could read this chapter and see themselves in Kanan. I changed up my writing style a bit to convey Kanan's disjointed sense of time and place.  
>   
> Thank you so so much for reading! Your comments and kudos brighten my day more than you know :)


	16. Ghosts old and new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra assesses the Ghost crew and has a chat with Hera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after the first two episodes of season one but before the third episode. The heist they're planning is the mission that fails in the beginning of episode three (sad trombone noise).

Ezra Bridger had been alone since he was seven years old.  
  
When you’re forced to survive by yourself for half your life, you learn some skills, and key among them was assessing your situation and figuring out an escape route if needed.  
  
Ezra wasn’t planning on escaping the _Ghost_ , but he might have to if Kanan didn’t begin the promised Jedi training soon. Ezra had asked about it repeatedly, but pretty much all of Kanan’s time was spent with the crew “planning” for “missions.”  
  
(Ezra didn’t really see the point in having a greater purpose. Having a greater purpose is what got his parents captured. His only purpose was survival, and it had worked out pretty well for him so far.)  
  
Being on the _Ghost_ wasn’t terrible. There was always food readily available, and he had long ago learned to appreciate having a roof over his head. Or a starship hull over his head. Whatever. But he didn’t really see the point in staying here if he wasn’t going to be trained as a Jedi.  
  
Ezra was sitting in the lounge of the _Ghost_ , mostly tuning out the crew’s ongoing planning session. They were talking about stealing an Imperial shipment, or something like that. _They argue a lot_ , he reflected.  
  
“What if the shipment is better guarded than we’re expecting?” asked Sabine. Ezra ran through what he knew about Sabine in his head. It had become common practice for him over the years — a key part of assessing your situation was figuring out who you’re dealing with.  
  
_Sabine Wren. Mandalorian. Really smart. Good fighter. Likes to paint. Really pretty. Could definitely beat me up._  
  
“Have a little faith,” Kanan said. “Even if we meet with resistance, we can just grab the shipment and go.”  
  
_Kanan Jarrus. Crew leader. Former Jedi padawan. He says he’s going to train me, but he hasn’t started yet. Tall. Confident. I’m pretty sure he and Hera are together._  
  
“Yeah, Sabine, where’s your sense of adventure?” Zeb teased.  
  
_Garrazeb Orrelios. Lasat. Huge. Smelly. Terrible roommate. He let me get captured by Agent Kallus._ Ezra paused his mental assessment, frowning. _Could also definitely beat me up_ , Ezra admitted to himself grudgingly.  
  
Hera was watching the conversation, her eyebrow quirked up in a skeptical expression.  
  
_Hera Syndulla. Amazing pilot. Really smart. Maybe the nicest person on the ship, but also kind of scary. She has rebel contacts. I do_ not _want to get on her bad side._  
  
Then, standing next to Hera and frequently interrupting with aggressive beeps, was Chopper.  
  
_Chopper. Astromech. Pure evil._ The only good thing about Chopper was that he annoyed Zeb too.  
  
“We’ve planned for this, Sabine,” Kanan said. “The heist will work.”  
  
“Fine, but I’m definitely going to say ‘I told you so’ if it doesn’t,” Sabine said, crossing her arms.  
  
“Ezra, what do you think?” Hera asked suddenly.  
  
“Um,” Ezra said. “About what?” Zeb rolled his eyes.  
  
“The kid’s not paying attention,” Zeb said.  
  
“He’s a part of the crew now, and his view is important,” Hera countered.  
  
“I’m not really into the whole ‘planning missions’ thing. I’m just here for training,” Ezra said, glaring pointedly at Kanan.  
  
“We’ll start your training once we have time. Right now, we have to focus on getting this shipment,” Kanan replied. Ezra sighed.  
  
The crew bickered for a few more moments, allowing Ezra to tune out again and imagine what his training would be like. Maybe he should have declined Kanan’s offer to join the _Ghost_ crew, kept the lightsaber and stayed on Lothal. At least there he had his own room.  
  
“Alright, Spectres, let’s get ready,” Kanan stood up, breaking Ezra’s reverie.  
  
Most of the other crew members also left the common area to prepare for the mission, but Hera stayed seated, eyeing Ezra from across the dejarik table.  
  
“What? Do I have something on my face?” Ezra asked after a few seconds, uncomfortable under Hera’s penetrating gaze.  
  
“Don’t worry, Kanan will start your training soon,” Hera said. “He’s just nervous.”  
  
“ _He’s_ nervous? No way,” Ezra scoffed. How could Mr. Spectre-One-Jedi-Knight-Look-At-My-Cool-Lightsaber be nervous?  
  
“He’s never had an apprentice before,” Hera said.  
  
“And I’ve never been an apprentice before, so it’s fine,” Ezra replied. Hera smiled.  
  
“Ezra, I know you don’t care about the missions, and that’s fine. It really is,” Hera said, registering Ezra’s skeptical look. “But when you’re on the _Ghost_ , you’re part of the team. And that means you have to do your part, and be patient.”  
  
“I don’t want to be patient! I want to learn how to be a Jedi so I can fight the Empire and get them off my planet,” Ezra said, his voice rising. Hera still had that infuriating calm smile on her face.  
  
“Believe me, I know how you feel. We all do,” Hera said. She stood up and walked towards him, resting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“I promise you, Kanan will start your training when he feels it’s time,” she said.  
  
“But I’m ready now!” Ezra said.  
  
“I know you are. But maybe he isn’t yet,” Hera said. She jerked her head towards the door. “Come with me to the cockpit. I’ll show you some tricks for flying the _Ghost_.”  
  
“I’m not a pilot.”  
  
“Then you can just sit there and be dazzled by my incredible flying skills,” Hera said with a grin. “Come on. No sense in sitting here and sulking.”  
  
“I’m not sulking,” Ezra muttered, but he stood up and followed Hera out of the lounge. He adjusted his mental list of Hera’s attributes.  
  
_Hera Syndulla. Crew co-leader. Amazing pilot. Really smart. The nicest person on the ship, but also definitely scary. She has rebel contacts._  
  
_And I still don't want to get on her bad side._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ezra!!!! My beautiful son. I was going to wait another chapter before getting Ezra in the mix, but then I had the idea for this chapter and thought, "Screw it, let's just bring in Ezra." I just love him a lot. And I love the dynamics between him and everyone else on the crew a lot.  
>   
> This is a bit of a short chapter because it's just an introduction into Ezra's character. We also get to see how Ezra perceives the other members of the crew. Hera is pretty much the glue that holds the team together, so I think she would be the one who would start to bring him into the fold.  
>   
> Anyway, I love Ezra so so so much, so I'm really excited to have him here. Let me know what you think in the comments!


	17. The ghost in the machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra is introduced to a Ghost crew tradition: movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place sometime in between the first few episodes of season one.

Kanan’s holocron contained a lot of interesting data – old maps and stories of Jedi history and the like – but Ezra’s favorite program by far was lightsaber combat training with Master Skywalker.  
  
Ezra stood barefoot in his shared room with Zeb, positioning himself into different forms as Skywalker’s image instructed him from the holocron floating in midair. He had picked up a sort of lightsaber-sized stick on Lothal, which he gripped in his hands. (Kanan had allowed Ezra to borrow his holocron, but use his lightsaber for unsupervised practice? No way.)  
  
There were a few training programs with other Jedi masters, but Master Skywalker was Ezra’s favorite. He seemed the friendliest, and was the most encouraging by far.  
  
“1…2…3…4…Good job!” the hologram of Skywalker said, going through each form and breaking into a wide smile. Ezra imagined that the Jedi was able to watch his practice from across the years that separated them, that he was actually praising Ezra’s superior stick-wielding capabilities.  
  
“Now, let’s add two moves on the end of that. This will help you block blaster fire when it’s coming from two sides. Trust me, that will happen more often than you think,” Skywalker said, again flashing that dazzling smile. “Here we go – positions 5, and 6.”  
  
Ezra mirrored Skywalker, swooping his light saber to his right, and then his left.  
  
“Now, don’t move your arms too widely, because that will leave your center undefended,” the hologram of Skywalker said. Ezra lowered his stick guiltily, feeling more than ever like the Jedi master was actually watching him. “Let’s try that again. 5…6.”  
  
Ezra kept his arms closer to his body this time as he copied the move.  
  
“You’re getting it! Let’s do that again, but this time all together. 1…2…3…4…5…6. Nice job,” Skywalker said approvingly, and Ezra smiled. The Jedi master was probably dead now, and even if he were alive he would be super old, like, 40 or something. But Ezra liked how young Skywalker was in the hologram, closer to Ezra’s age than Kanan. It made him believe that he could be as powerful a Jedi as any other master was in just a few years.  
  
Someone knocked on his door gently. Not Zeb, who would just barge in the room without warning. (Okay, fine, it was Zeb’s room too, but still.) Last time Ezra had checked, Sabine and Hera were locked in a deadly battle of wits over a game of dejarik, and taking it way too seriously. Chopper would also barge in – could the droid even knock? – which meant that it was probably Kanan hovering outside his door.  
  
“Come in,” Ezra called. Kanan walked in, smiling as he saw the hologram of Master Skywalker going through Form III positions.  
  
“I always liked that program,” Kanan said, walking across the small room and sitting on Zeb’s bunk. “Master Skywalker did the best lightsaber training holos.”  
  
“Did you ever meet him?” Ezra asked, still mirroring Skywalker and going through each position.  
  
“I saw him around the Temple. He was a great warrior, though. One of our best generals. The HoloNet News called him ‘the Hero with No Fear,’” Kanan said.  
  
“Cool,” Ezra said admiringly.  
  
“Come on, put that away for now. Hera asked me to come get you for movie night,” Kanan said, gesturing to the holocron.  
  
“Movie night?” Ezra asked, closing the holocron with the Force and catching it before it dropped to the floor.  
  
“Yeah, sometimes when we’re between jobs we’ll watch a holodrama together. Someone different gets to pick the holo each time. You’re the newest crew member, so you get the honor tonight,” Kanan said. Ezra rested his lightsaber-stick against the wall and looked at Kanan apprehensively.  
  
“I don’t know. I didn’t really watch a lot of holodramas growing up. It’s not really my thing,” Ezra said dubiously. He didn’t have much leisure time as a street rat picking pockets in Lothal’s capital city.  
  
“It’s mandatory,” Kanan said, standing up and retrieving the holocron from Ezra.  
  
“Mandatory?”  
  
“Just like having dinners as a crew when we can,” Kanan shrugged. “Hera’s ship, Hera’s rules.”  
  
“Okay, then. Well, since I don’t have a choice – ”  
  
“Nope, you don’t!” Kanan interrupted cheerfully.  
  
“ – I guess I can come join you guys,” Ezra finished.  
  
“I’ll go drop this off in my room. I’ll meet you in the lounge,” Kanan said, tossing the holocron in the air and catching it one-handed.  
  
Ezra pulled on some shoes and wandered to the ship’s common area. For a crew of rebels, they sure had a lot of weird rules. He was so used to being alone, so spending time with others outside of a mission or training just seemed odd. There was nothing to be gained from it, no purpose, just…being with other people.  
  
The dejarik table had been cleared, and Hera was smiling, which meant that she had probably won. Sabine was sitting on the floor cross-legged, and Zeb was sitting on Hera’s left on the sofa.  
  
“Ezra! So glad you could join us,” Hera said, her smile widening, as if joining them had been optional.  
  
“I can’t believe we’re letting the kid pick the holo tonight,” Zeb grumbled, crossing his arms.  
  
“It’s only fair, Zeb. Ezra’s the newest member of the crew,” Sabine said, before eyeing Ezra. “You better pick a good one, though.”  
  
“Um, I don’t know any holodramas?” Ezra said.  
  
“That’s okay, we have options,” Hera said. Chopper, who was positioned next to Sabine in front of the dejarik table, began projecting images onto the wall opposite. Ezra walked over and sat on the floor on the other side of the droid.  
  
“As long as we’re not watching ‘Wings of Fury’ again, I’m fine with anything,” Kanan said, walking into the lounge bearing a large bowl of popcorn. Sabine shifted to the side so Kanan could squee  
  
ze past her and sit on the couch on Hera’s other side. Kanan put one arm around Hera, who had an affronted look on her face.  
  
“‘Wings of Fury’ is a classic!” Hera said, indignant.  
  
“You choose it almost every time,” Kanan said, words somewhat muddled by a mouthful of popcorn.  
  
“Hey, give me some of that popcorn,” Sabine said, reaching for the bowl.  
  
“Wait your turn! Hera and Zeb haven’t gotten any yet,” Kanan admonished. Zeb reached across the table and took a giant handful of popcorn.  
  
Sitting on the floor, watching the crew banter, Ezra reflected how much his life had changed in just a few weeks. Two months ago he was alone in his tower, staring at his collection of stormtrooper helmets and trying to figure out where his next meal would come from. Now, he was a part of a crew. Sort of. Training to a be a Jedi. Maybe. More or less.  
  
Hera laughed as Zeb tossed a handful of popcorn at Sabine, who raised her fists in mock anger.  
  
“I’m not cleaning that up,” Kanan said with a grin.  
  
“Come on, Ezra, pick a holo, before I go over there and wipe that smile of Zeb’s face,” Sabine said. Zeb stuck his tongue out at her.  
  
Ezra looked at the options projected by Chopper.  
  
“Uh, how about ‘Adventures on the Outer Rim?’” Ezra said, choosing randomly.  
  
“Oh, that’s a good one. Nice fight scenes,” Sabine said approvingly. She gained access to the popcorn bowl at last and passed it over to Ezra.  
  
“Thanks,” Ezra said, allowing himself a tentative smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he had popcorn. Maybe it was as far back as when his parents were still alive, when he still had a family.  
  
Ezra looked at the crew as the movie started. They were so comfortable with each other. They loved each other, he thought. Like a family.  
  
Ezra ate a handful of popcorn. Maybe movie night wasn’t so bad after all.  
  


* * *

  
  
“He’s a good kid,” Kanan said as he and Hera were preparing for bed. He pulled off his shirt and settled into Hera’s bunk.  
  
“He is,” Hera agreed, lying down next to him. “It’s good to see him spending time with the crew.”  
  
“Yeah, I may have told him that movie night was mandatory, and implied you would be upset if he didn’t come,” Kanan said mischievously. Hera flicked his arm in disapproval.  
  
“Great, now he’s going to think I’m some kind of weird movie night dictator,” she said.  
  
“Aren’t you?” Kanan teased. He laughed as Hera sat up, lifted her pillow and hit him in the face with it. She straddled him and lifted the pillow off his face, looking down at him with mock severity.  
  
“I will _not_ be mocked in my own room, Kanan Jarrus,” she said.  
  
“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kanan replied, lifting his head off his pillow to catch her in a kiss.  
  
“It’s nice to see you like this, too,” Hera said as she pulled away. She climbed off of him to lie back down and placed her head on his chest.  
  
“Like what?” Kanan asked, chin resting on Hera’s lekku.  
  
“You’ve been happier since Ezra came on board. I think it’s good for you to have someone you can teach,” she said.  
  
“He’s teaching me too,” Kanan said.  
  
“I’m glad we found him,” Hera murmured. Her voice was low and sleepy.  
  
“So am I,” Kanan said, tipping his face down to kiss Hera’s lekku. He felt her breathing even out as she fell asleep with her head on his chest. _So am I_ , he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've noted before, one of the best parts of writing fanfiction is getting to impose my headcanons on the world! First of all, as you can probably tell, I am an unapologetic Anakin stan (stanakin?) and thoroughly enjoyed getting to write Anakin crumbs. I think Ezra and Anakin have so many great parallels. I once saw a tumblr post that was like, Ezra is what Anakin could've been if he had a loving support system, which, like, damn.  
>   
> (Also, Ezra Bridger is bisexual and has a crush on the Anakin hologram. I don't make the rules - oh wait, I totally do! I'm new to this whole fanfic writing thing, you can't blame me for being excited.)  
>   
> It's fun to write about Ezra coming out of his shell a bit. He has such incredible development. And fun to see Hera and Kanan morphing into space parent mode!  
>   
> Anyway, thanks for reading as always! Comments and kudos are the wind beneath my wings.


	18. Dreaming of ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is structured slightly differently from other chapters. I'll be interested to know what you think!  
>   
> This chapter takes place sometime during the first season.

Sabine is riding a starbird. Her legs are straddling the creature’s massive back, her hands grasping the soft feathers just above the joints of its wings. They’re flying, floating over smooth grassland – Lothal, she realizes. She can see the shadow of the bird ripple over the tall grasses as they move.  
  
She’s wearing her armor, but not her helmet. She tips her head up to the sky and feels the heat of Lothal’s sun.  
  
The bird starts flying at an upward angle, reaching higher and higher into the sky. They pass soft purple clouds. Sabine leans out to reach one, but the starbird is moving too quickly, and the cloud is already beneath her.  
  
She realizes with a jolt that they are heading towards the atmosphere, towards the vacuum of space.  
  
“Stop!” she cries to the bird. It continues to pound its fiery orange wings, not hearing her scream of terror or not caring. Sabine cannot tell where the bright wings of the starbird end and the fire of the atmosphere begins. She screams, but feels nothing as the flames lick past them.  
  
As suddenly as they entered the atmosphere, they are out of it, into the inky black void. The bird flies steadily onward, away from the planet. Sabine realizes that she is still breathing, untouched by the cold vacuum of space.  
  
She begins laughing, and that’s when she realizes this is a dream. Of all the impossible things that came before, this is what lifts the scales from her eyes: she can hear herself laugh, and there is no sound in space.  
  
“Why are you laughing, child?” the starbird asks. They are not flying anymore, but floating gently. She looks around her, but she cannot see Lothal anymore, or its moon, or any star nearby enough to be considered a sun. There are only distant lights puncturing the vast darkness.  
  
“This is a dream,” Sabine says.  
  
“Is it a good one?” the starbird asks. She cannot see its face.  
  
“I’m not sure,” Sabine says.  
  
“You should be more decisive,” the starbird says, and it sounds like her mother. Then Sabine is in her room on Mandalore, her mother standing before her.  
  
“What do you want, Sabine?” her mother says.  
  
“I want to stop the Empire,” Sabine replies, but her voice sounds small. She feels like a child again under Ursa’s appraising gaze. To her surprise, her mother laughs.  
  
“How can you stop the Empire if you are serving it?” her mother asks. Sabine looks down, and she’s wearing her uniform from the Imperial academy.  
  
“No,” Sabine says, agitated. “No, this isn’t right. I’m not a cadet anymore.”  
  
Her surroundings shift again, and she’s on the bridge of an Imperial cruiser, looking out the viewport onto a planet. Mandalore. A fleet of Mandalorian fighters are heading towards her ship.  
  
“Of course you’re not a cadet,” a man standing next to her says. He’s wearing an Imperial uniform. “We fire on your command, general.”  
  
“No, stop, don’t – ” Sabine says, but it’s too late.  
  
“Fire!” the man says, and the cruiser begins shooting at the Mandalorian fleet. They all explode in front of her eyes, bursting into flame, and she screams as the starbird hurtles through the sky, aiming directly for her heart –  
  
Sabine gasps and sits up in her bunk on the _Ghost_. She’s slick with sweat and breathing heavily.  
  
“It was a nightmare,” she says to the darkness of her small room, her voice unsteady. “It’s okay.”  
  
She lies back down, resting her head on her pillow. Already the details of the dream are fading, and she is drifting back into unconsciousness. Her final thought before slipping into dreamless sleep is of a glittering, flaming starbird.  
  


* * *

  
  
In his dream, Zeb is fighting. He’s on Lasan, Lasan as it was, bright and teeming with life. His opponent is no match for Garrazeb Orrelios, captain of the honor guard. His comrades are behind him, cheering him on.  
  
He smashes his bo-rifle into the stomach of his opponent, who doubles over with a grunt. The opponent looks up, and Zeb recognizes the bloodied face of Agent Kallus.  
  
“Why are you fighting so hard, Orrelios?” Kallus asks. “Don’t you know they’re already gone?”  
  
The voices of Zeb’s friends abruptly go quiet, the daylight of Lasan shifts into darkness. It’s cold. Zeb looks around him, but all he can see is emptiness. He and Kallus are alone.  
  
“I’ll kill you,” Zeb says, his voice almost a whisper. He turns back to Kallus, but his opponent has disappeared.  
  
“Maybe so,” Kallus’ voice says. “But they will still be gone.”  
  
Zeb looks down, and the ground is littered with the bodies of his people. He recognizes friends, family, fellow warriors for Lasan. Zeb falls to his knees, tilts his head up and roars into the night sky.  
  
“Zeb. Zeb. Zeb!” Ezra says, shaking Zeb’s arm. “Wake up!”  
  
Zeb opens his eyes, and he’s in his room on the _Ghost_. Ezra is standing next to him, his blue eyes wide with worry.  
  
“You were dreaming,” Ezra says nervously. “I’m sorry I woke you up but it – it didn’t sound like it was a good dream.”  
  
“Thanks, kid,” Zeb says gruffly. “Nightmare. Sorry I woke you.”  
  
“That’s okay,” Ezra says. “Do you want me to get you some water or something?”  
  
“Nah, I’m fine. I’ll just use the refresher. Go back to bed,” Zeb says. Ezra nods and climbs back onto the top bunk.  
  
_He’s a good kid,_ Zeb thinks to himself as he walks out of the room. Ever since the ill-fated meiloorun trip, he and Ezra have connected more, maybe even become friends. Zeb realizes he’s glad the boy was there, that he had someone to pull him out of the nightmare.  
  


* * *

  
  
Chopper’s dreams – if one could the visions of droids “dreams” – are metallic and sharp. Preserved memories replay in his dome as he recharges, wrapped in swirls of data and binary code.  
  
This dream is a fond memory, of him and Hera on Ryloth. Hera has been left alone by her father again, and she is burying her pain by fixing up Chopper, adding upgrades and teaching herself the language of droids.  
  
Chopper sees Hera in front of him as if she is really there, a decade younger and slower to smile. He tells her a joke so that she will laugh, the sound bright and pleasing to his circuits.  
  
On the _Ghost_ , Chopper hums happily in his sleep – if one could call the unconsciousness of droids “sleep” – and feels Hera’s warm hand rest on his dome.  
  


* * *

  
  
Kanan is in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. This was his favorite space in the Jedi temple as a youngling. The massive greenhouse had several nooks and crannies for a child to explore, and young Caleb had delighted in uncovering new fountains hidden behind vegetation in damp recesses of the room.  
  
Right now, he’s sitting in the floor front of a small, glittering fountain in one of the room’s meditative areas. Sunlight wafts through the windows, warming Kanan’s back. He is somewhat surprised to be in the temple – he thought it had been destroyed in the purge, and that this magnificent room must now be a husk of its former self. Then he realizes that Master Billaba is sitting a few feet across from him, and knows that he is dreaming.  
  
“Caleb,” Depa Billaba says, smiling softly. “It’s good to see you.”  
  
“I don’t go by Caleb anymore,” Kanan says. It’s all he can think of to say; his mind is curiously blank.  
  
“It is the curse of masters that we always see our padawans as they once were, and find it difficult to see them as they now are,” Master Billaba says, inclining her head. “But you are truly a Jedi now, Caleb.”  
  
“I never passed the Jedi trials,” Kanan says.  
  
“Maybe not. But you are a Jedi nonetheless, with your own padawan,” Master Billaba answers.  
  
“Ezra,” Kanan acknowledges. “I’m trying to be as good a master to him as you were to me. But teaching is…hard.” Kanan huffs a laugh, and Master Billaba joins him, her laugh lighter than he remembers it in life.  
  
“It is,” she says. “But you are doing well.”  
  
Kanan shakes his head.  
  
“I don’t know, Master. I feel so lost,” he says.  
  
“A true heart is never lost,” Master Billaba answers. “Trust yourself. You know more than you think.”  
  
They sit in silence for a few moments, the only sound the soft tinkle of the fountain behind them.  
  
“I miss you,” Kanan says quietly.  
  
“I am with you always, Kanan,” Master Billaba says. “Remember what I taught you, what all the Jedi taught you.”  
  
Kanan’s surroundings are beginning to fade into mist, as is Master Billaba. She is nearly transparent and her voice almost a whisper when she speaks again, but her words echo clearly in his head.  
  
“I am proud of you,” she says.  
  
Kanan opens his eyes, looking into the darkness of his room on the _Ghost_. He looks over at Hera lying next to him, her breathing steady. Kanan realizes that he is crying, tears rolling gently down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been reading a lot about how people across the world have been having weird, vivid dreams over the past few months. Researchers say that these unusual dreams are linked to a collective trauma (e.g., a massive global pandemic). So, I figured hey, what's more traumatic than reckoning with your past while rebelling against the Empire? And thus, the idea for this chapter was born.  
>   
> I think that dreams are a really cool way to explore a character's psyche and motivations. Dream episodes of TV are always fun, so why not do a dream chapter?  
>   
> I hope that readers enjoy this chapter - I don't want it to be too esoteric! Let me know what you think. Thank you for sticking with me on this fanfic journey. <3


	19. Ghosts and other broken things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera and Kanan have a talk after the Spectres rescue Kanan from the Mustafar system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after the final episode of season 1.

Kanan had safely returned to the _Ghost_. Returned to her. _Mustafar is where Jedi go to die_ – that’s what Kanan told her, what she told Ezra, but neither of them had died. They were back now, safe. So why did Hera still feel an overwhelming sense of dread?  
  
Hera was good at hiding her emotions, but Kanan knew there was something wrong. She couldn’t keep anything from him – he was always able to read her emotions, even when he was seemingly too dense to understand why she was upset.  
  
“We need to talk,” Kanan said to her quietly after dinner. Hera nodded, feeling her stomach clench. Usually Kanan was the only person she wanted to talk to whenever she had a problem with, well, anything – but this was different, somehow. She was afraid.  
  
It had been a standard week since they left the Mustafar system, since Kanan and Ezra had boarded the ship again. They had quickly fallen back into their rhythm as a crew as they headed to the rendezvous point to meet with Commander Sato, the leader of the Phoenix rebel cell. It was thrilling to know that the Spectres weren’t alone in this effort, and that countless others were fighting for the cause.  
  
Hera had always relished the feeling that came with a sense of purpose, the confidence in herself and in her mission. But after their escape from the Mustafar system, there was a niggling feeling of doubt in the back of her mind. Not in the mission, or in her capabilities as a leader within the rebellion, but in the recesses of her heart, where she kept her deepest emotions tightly hidden.  
  
Kanan waited until they had entered her room to begin the dreaded, forewarned “talk.”  
  
“What’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing. You’ve been acting strangely since Ezra and I got back,” Kanan said. His beautiful turquoise eyes were filled with worry. She couldn’t look at those eyes right now. She turned away from him, breathing deeply to steady herself.  
  
“You told me once that Mustafar is where Jedi go to die,” she said, keeping her voice calm and low.  
  
“I know,” Kanan said softly.  
  
“I thought I was going to lose you, Kanan. You and Ezra,” Hera said, her voice breaking despite her best efforts to hold her emotions in.  
  
“You didn’t lose me. I’m right here,” he said consolingly. “Everything is alright.”  
  
Kanan placed a tentative hand on Hera’s shoulder, but she shrugged it off and whirled around to face him.  
  
“But what if it wasn’t alright?” she asked, not bothering to keep the anger out of her voice.  
  
“Hera, you’re the one who says the mission always comes first,” Kanan said, raking his fingers through his hair like he always did when he didn’t know what to say. “Ezra and I will always be hunted because we’re Jedi, and you’re the leader of a rebel cell fighting against the Empire. This is our lives.”  
  
Hera glared at Kanan.  
  
“I know that! You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, frustrated. Everything was coming out wrong. Usually she was so careful with her words, so measured, but she felt as if she had lost control. Stars, she hated losing control. She forced herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath, willing her speeding heart rate to slow.  
  
“I know it’s not rational, but I’m afraid, Kanan. I’m afraid of losing you,” Hera said slowly, opening her eyes again. Kanan looked stricken, as if shocked by the vulnerability Hera had admitted. She shook her head, looking away from him again as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Did he still not believe that she loved him as much as he loved her?  
  
“I understand,” Kanan said softly. “I’m afraid of losing you too.”  
  
Hera buried her face in her hands, pressing against her stinging eyes as if she could stop the tears from flowing. Kanan walked forward, and Hera finally allowed him to put his arms around her. Slowly, almost grudgingly, she began to cry softly. It felt safer to weep while she was encircled in his arms. He rubbed slow circles on her back with his right hand, and kissed the top of her lekku. Hera hiccupped a sob as she lowered her hands from her face and wrapped her arms around Kanan’s back, gripping him tightly.  
  
They stood there for several minutes, the silence punctured only by Hera’s sobs and Kanan’s soothing whispers.  
  
“It’s okay,” he said, “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”  
  
Hera broke away, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand and guiltily noticing the stain of tears and snot she had left on Kanan’s shirt.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”  
  
“Don’t be sorry,” Kanan said fervently, his voice almost pleading. “Hera, you have always been there for me. Let me be there for you.”  
  
“Even if it means crying all over your shirt?” Hera asked with a weak laugh.  
  
“I don’t care about that,” he replied. He took her hand and steered her to the bunk, sitting down next to her on the thin mattress pallet. Kanan tilted Hera’s chin up with his hand, forcing her to look into his eyes. He looked so earnest, so vulnerable, so young. Hera could see the padawan he once was in the determination of his gaze and the softness of his smile.  
  
“Look, we don’t know what the future holds. Either one of us could be killed on any of our missions,” Kanan murmured. “But whatever amount of time I have left in this galaxy – whether it’s five years or fifty years or even just a week – I want to spend it with you.”  
  
Kanan leaned over and kissed Hera’s forehead. She gave another soft sob, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his voice.  
  
“There is no one else for me. No one but you,” he whispered. “I love you, Hera.”  
  
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, putting all of her unspoken emotions into the kiss. She tilted her head as he deepened it, tugging gently at her lower lip with his teeth. Hera carded her fingers through Kanan’s hair and pulled him even closer, until there was barely any space left between them.  
  
She kissed him like their first kiss in the shuttle on Lothal, as if they were the only two beings in the universe.  
  
She was breathless when Kanan broke away, his pupils dilated and his lips slightly swollen. She put her hand on his face, brushing his cheekbone with her thumb. He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes.  
  
“I love you, too,” Hera whispered, her voice barely audible. But Kanan heard it, his face breaking into a wide, almost giddy grin. He pulled her into a tight hug, and she rested her head on his shoulder.  
  
“I will never leave you,” Kanan vowed. “Never.”  
  
Hera kissed his neck gently and closed her eyes. The fear which had gripped her so fully was finally gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like we were due a fluffy-yet-angsty romantic chapter between our two favorite space parents. I think it's hard for Hera to allow herself to be emotionally vulnerable, even with Kanan. I wanted to show that internal struggle she has to be open with someone, even someone she loves desperately. Abandonment issues - they'll fuck you up!  
>   
> I also wanted to get a teensy bit of foreshadowing in there, since we know Kanan eventually does get killed in the line of duty. But he never truly leaves Hera.  
>   
> Thank you so much for reading. Y'all are the best and your comments and kudos give me life <3


	20. Ghosts past and present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan wakes up from a nightmare and remembers where he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter takes place the day after the end of "A New Dawn." The second part takes place after season 2 episode 8, "Blood Sisters."

Kanan awoke with a start, his head pounding. He’d had another nightmare, reliving the familiar beats of Master Billaba’s sacrifice before dreaming of Okadiah dying in his arms. It took him a moment to calm down and adjust to his surroundings, to remember where he was.  
  
The _Ghost_ was large, large enough for him to have his own room plus two unused rooms to spare. He didn’t know how Hera had managed the ship by herself for all this time, with her only assistance coming from an irascible droid. What had Hera called him? Chopper? The old rustbucket had beeped indignantly yesterday when Hera had announced Kanan was joining the crew. Kanan had always been a bit awkward with droids, and this Chopper didn’t seem like the friendly astromechs that had worked alongside the Jedi.  
  
Kanan checked his chrono and sighed, realizing he had only gotten a few hours of sleep. It was far too early for his liking, but he probably wouldn’t to fall back asleep now. He pulled on his clothes and wandered over to the refresher to splash his face before heading to the kitchen. Hera had given him the grand tour already, but he always liked to explore on his own to better learn a ship’s secrets.  
  
But first: caf. Kanan padded into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty at this early hour, but was greeted by the sight of Hera sipping a mugful of something hot while sitting at the table, Chopper hovering by her side.  
  
“You’re up early,” Hera said with mild surprise.  
  
“Not as early as you, apparently,” Kanan said, stifling a yawn. He still couldn’t believe Hera had agreed to take him on as a crewmember, but he was grateful. He needed a change of scenery. And, well, as long as the scenery included Hera, he didn’t particularly care where they were headed.  
  
Kanan wandered over to the caf machine, groaning when he saw that it was broken.  
  
“Sorry, the caf machine is broken,” Hera said, her tone slightly amused as Kanan leaned forward and rested his head against a cabinet in a dramatic display of abject despair. “I’m afraid you’ll have to survive on tea for now.”  
  
“My first priority as a new member of this crew will be fixing the caf machine,” Kanan said, forehead still pressed against the cabinet. Hera laughed.  
  
“Looking forward to it. Sit down, I’ll make you a cup of tea,” she said.  
  
Kanan obliged, taking advantage of the opportunity to look at Hera admiringly while her back was turned to him. She really was unfairly beautiful.  
  
“So, where to, boss?” Kanan asked as Hera handed him a mug of tea. He took a sip, the liquid burning his tongue. Not as good as caf, but good enough for now.  
  
“Resupply first, then we’ll head to Lothal. I have a couple contacts on the ground, and the situation there is getting bad,” she replied.  
  
“As bad as Gorse?” Kanan asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice. He didn’t know if he could handle another high-stakes mission so soon after their last adventure.  
  
“Not yet, but we’ll need to do some recon,” Hera said.  
  
“I can do recon. I’m a recon master. One of my many talents,” Kanan said, throwing a cocky grin at Hera. She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling, so Kanan considered it a victory.  
  
“Finish your tea. I’ll be in the cargo bay with Chop – we have some inventory to do that I’ve been avoiding,” Hera said, standing. Kanan raised his mug in response.  
  
Alone in the kitchen, Kanan took a larger sip of tea, enjoying the burn as it went down his throat. He eyed the caf machine, already planning how he would go about fixing it.  
  
_I can make this work_ , Kanan thought.  
  


* * *

  
  
Kanan awoke with a start, his head pounding. He’d had another nightmare, this time featuring the Sith lord in black armor. It took Kanan a moment to calm down and adjust to his surroundings, to remember where he was.  
  
His chest was pressed against Hera’s back, his arm slung around her waist. He could feel her heartbeat through his hand gently resting on her chest.  
  
Kanan breathed deeply, inhaling the mild scent of sweat and Hera’s more overpowering smell. She didn’t wear any perfume, and everyone on the _Ghost_ used the same body wash, but Hera still had a unique smell, soft and inviting. One of the many things he loved about her.  
  
“Are you awake?” Hera mumbled.  
  
“Yes,” Kanan responded quietly.  
  
“Why?” Hera asked, her grumpy tone muffled by the pillow. Kanan laughed softly and kissed her right lek.  
  
“It’s morning, my love,” he whispered.  
  
“Too early,” she said. “Need caf.”  
  
“And I’m supposed to make the caf, right?”  
  
“You’re so smart. This is why you’re Spectre One,” Hera said. Kanan could hear the smile in her voice.  
  
“Uh huh. I’m the chief caf maker. That’s the reason you keep me around,” Kanan teased.  
  
“Not the only reason,” Hera said suggestively, lowering her voice. “What you did last night…I keep you around for that, too.”  
  
Kanan laughed and kissed her lekku again before sitting up. He scooched down to the end of the bed so he could avoid bothering Hera while awkwardly clambering out of the bunk. He pulled on a shirt, enjoying how Hera was watching him with still-sleepy eyes.  
  
“You like what you see?” Kanan teased.  
  
“Definitely,” Hera said, smiling. Kanan leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the forehead.  
  
“I’ll return with caf,” Kanan promised.  
  
“My hero,” Hera mumbled from the bed as Kanan left the room.  
  
It was early, so Kanan was surprised to find Sabine at the kitchen table, wearing pajamas and nursing her own mug of caf.  
  
“You’re up early,” Kanan said. Sabine looked up at him blearily.  
  
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep,” she said.  
  
“Any particular reason?” Kanan asked as he walked over to the caf machine, keeping his tone casual. They tried to be as quiet as possible, but Hera could be very… _enthusiastic_ when Kanan did certain things with his tongue. Kanan cleared his throat and focused on the machine brewing his caf.  
  
Sabine sighed.  
  
“Seeing Ketsu again affected me more than I expected,” Sabine admitted. Kanan sat down across from her at the table, mug in hand. Hera could wait a few moments.  
  
“It’s just – that could have been me, you know?” Sabine continued, looking at Kanan. “If you hadn’t found me, if I hadn’t joined the crew, I could’ve ended up like that. Just another bounty hunter, getting caught up with the wrong people.”  
  
“Ketsu would probably argue that you’re the one getting caught up with the wrong people,” Kanan noted. Sabine laughed softly.  
  
“It’s all about choices, right? Ketsu chose to leave me behind last time, and she chose to save me yesterday,” Sabine mused.  
  
“And you chose to join the _Ghost_ ,” Kanan continued.  
  
“You chose to ask me,” Sabine replied. “Our choices make us who we are. Even when we make a bad choice once, we can still make a different choice next time.” She took a long sip from her mug of caf.  
  
“You’re very philosophical this morning,” Kanan remarked. Sabine huffed a small laugh again.  
  
“Reuniting with your best friend-turned-enemy-turned-sort of friend again will do that to you, I guess,” she said.  
  
“I’m proud of how you handled seeing Ketsu again. You didn’t let your emotions get the better of you. You gave her the opportunity to make a better choice,” Kanan said.  
  
“Well, we did get into a bit of a fight,” Sabine admitted.  
  
“But you were there for her when it mattered. You forgave her. You helped her to see that things could be different,” Kanan pressed.  
  
“Yeah. I guess you’re right," Sabine said. Kanan watched as she took another contemplative sip from her mug of caf. She had grown so much in the short time he had known her.  
  
“Of course I’m right,” he said. Sabine snorted. “I have to bring a mug back for Hera. You going to be okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sabine said. “I can’t believe you kept Hera waiting. You know how she gets about caf.”  
  
“She didn’t even have a working caf machine when I met her. I had to fix this one at least twice,” Kanan said as he stood to prepare another cup.  
  
“I can’t imagine a universe where Hera isn’t completely addicted to caf,” Sabine said with a laugh. Kanan shrugged.  
  
“Things change,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was compelled to write this chapter after finishing "A New Dawn" last week. I confess, I hadn't read AND before...I've been relying pretty much entirely on Wookieepedia for that backstory lol. BUT I have now read it and it was really really good! So I recommend if you haven't read it.  
>   
> Anyway, I just wanted to show how much Kanan had changed between AND and the beginning of the show. (you know what that is? growth dot gif)  
>   
> Also I'm going to change the rating to M because of mentions of sex. I can't write smut, mostly because I'm too scared, but I can certainly suggest it! (I personally headcanon that Kanan goes down on Hera often and that he's very good at it.)  
>   
> (EDIT: I have now written smut for this fic! But pretty non-explicit smut still tbh.)  
>   
> Thank you so much for reading!! Your comments and kudos give me life ❤️❤️❤️❤️


	21. The ghosts of who we were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a mission with Rex, Kanan reflects on his relationship with the clone. Hera helps him to move beyond the wounds of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place right after season 2 episode 9, "Stealth Strike." In that episode, Kanan and Rex go on a mission together and begin to overcome their differences.

“So, how did it go?” Hera asked as she walked into Kanan’s room, holding two steaming mugs of caf. Kanan gratefully accepted one and took a sip.  
  
“I gave my report to Commander Sato,” he said, putting his mug down on the dresser. “Can you help me out of this thing? I hate wearing stormtrooper armor.”  
  
Hera set down her mug as well and walked over to Kanan, helping him remove the plastoid armor on his arms so he was able to shrug off the primary chest plate. He inhaled deeply, feeling like he was able to breathe freely for the first time in hours.  
  
“I know you gave your official report to Commander Sato. I’d like to hear your unofficial report,” Hera said.  
  
Kanan sighed as he slipped off his boots and shin guards. He tugged off the rest of the armor on his legs, so he was just clad in the black bodysuit that troopers wore under their armor. Hera silently walked behind him to unzip the suit.  
  
“It was fine. It was good, actually,” Kanan said as Hera tugged the zipper down his back. “I was wrong about Rex. He’s a good man. Good soldier.”  
  
Hera picked up her mug of caf and sat cross-legged on his bunk as Kanan stepped out of the suit. He pulled a shirt and pants out of his dresser.  
  
“Hey, no need to get dressed on my account,” Hera said with a smirk.  
  
“Funny,” Kanan said as he tugged the shirt over his head. “But I’d rather not have the kids walk in on me wearing nothing but boxers.”  
  
“They would knock first!” Hera protested. Kanan gave her a look, raising his eyebrow skeptically. “Okay, fine, they wouldn’t knock first. Anyway, continue.”  
  
Now fully clothed again, Kanan picked up his own mug of caf and sat down on the bunk facing Hera.  
  
“It’s been a long time since I fought side by side with a clone. I had forgotten how…natural it feels,” he said quietly. “Rex would have died for me. He let himself be captured to cover our escape.”  
  
“But you went back for him,” Hera said. Kanan took a sip of caf.  
  
“Yeah,” he said. “I even told Ezra that I had to save my friend.”  
  
“You called Rex your friend?” Hera asked, a note of surprise in her voice. Kanan nodded.  
  
“I was so angry with him, just for being a clone, and for thinking he knows best when it comes to training Ezra. But when I was fighting beside him, I remembered what it was like in the Clone Wars,” he said, taking another swallow of caf as a stalling measure. “And I knew that if I had been captured, Rex would have rescued me no matter what, even if I only thought of him as another Jedi-murdering clone.”  
  
Hera didn’t say anything, but just watched Kanan patiently with her clear green eyes. That patience was one of the many reasons he loved her – she knew when he needed time to formulate his thoughts, and gave him the space to do so without interruption.  
  
“Clones are – clones _were_ created to be weapons. They were just tools to win the war and then destroy the Republic they fought and died for,” Kanan said slowly. “Rex is still _choosing_ to fight for the ideals of the Republic, for all the clones who didn’t have a choice.”  
  
“Sometimes it can be hard to see people for who they really are, instead of who you think they should be,” Hera said quietly. “You’ve resisted seeing Rex as he is.”  
  
Kanan looked down at the mug in his hands, suddenly ashamed. He had let his own prejudices guide him, obscuring his vision and clouding his judgment. Hera placed a hand on his leg.  
  
“It’s understandable, love. You saw people who look and sound just like Rex kill your master and everyone you knew when you were only a child,” she said, her voice gentle. “It’s hard to recover from that kind of betrayal.”  
  
“I shouldn’t let my fear of the past determine how I behave now,” Kanan replied, shaking his head.  
  
“You can acknowledge the past without letting it control you,” Hera said. “It’s okay if seeing Rex reminds you of the clones who hurt you. But you can't hold him responsible for their actions.”  
  
“We fought well, Rex and I,” Kanan said, smiling softly. “A clone and a Jedi, just like it used to be.”  
  
“I remember seeing clones and Jedi together as a girl on Ryloth. They seemed unstoppable together,” Hera smiled. Kanan laughed.  
  
“We almost were unstoppable, back then,” he said. “I saluted Rex at the end of the mission. He protected the Jedi in his charge, just like in the old days.”  
  
“I’m glad you did that,” Hera said. “I’m sure it makes him proud, to serve with Jedi again.”  
  
Hera set her now-empty mug on the floor and leaned forward to kiss Kanan on the forehead.  
  
“And I’m proud of you,” she whispered, her face just inches from his. “I know you don’t believe me, but you’re a very good man, Kanan Jarrus.”  
  
Kanan set down his own mug and leaned forward to kiss Hera. He gently pressed his lips to hers, placing a palm on her cheek.  
  
“Thank you,” he said, pulling away after a few seconds.  
  
“For what?” Hera asked, smiling.  
  
“For believing in me,” Kanan replied.  
  
“Always,” Hera said, sitting back on her heels. “I do have one request for you, though.”  
  
“Name it.”  
  
“Maybe you could back off on Ezra a bit with the constant training? He’s been feeling a bit overwhelmed lately between training with you and with Rex. He told me he took the mission in part because he needed a break from you two,” Hera said. Kanan huffed a laugh.  
  
“Yeah, he mentioned that to us,” he said. “I just want him to be the best Jedi he can be.”  
  
“He will be. But he’s also a teenager, and sometimes he needs space,” Hera said, smiling. “Promise you won’t be too hard on him?”  
  
“I can’t believe you’re making me promise that. Everyone knows _you’re_ the mean parent,” Kanan teased.  
  
“No way, I am definitely the fun parent,” Hera said, her tone of mock offense undercut by her smile and the quick peck she gave him on the cheek. She stood up and picked her mug off the floor. “Come on, let’s make some dinner. You must be hungry after all those heroics.”  
  
Kanan smiled and stood up, picking up his mug with one hand and taking Hera’s hand with the other.  
  
“We’ll see if Rex or Ezra has eaten anything. Make it a family dinner,” he said. Hera smiled at him as they walked out of his room.  
  
“Such a kind stormtrooper,” she said mischievously. Kanan bumped his shoulder into hers in mock indignation, nudging Hera a little to the side as she laughed.  
  
“You are _so_ the mean parent,” he said. Hera pushed her shoulder into his.  
  
“I’m perfect, and you know it,” Hera said loftily.  
  
_You are_ , Kanan thought.  
  
“Whatever you say, dear,” he teased, kissing her on the head before they entered the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, it's been a minute! Extremely sorry for the long delay in posting. (Not going to get into details, but my job is related to American politics. If you know anything about American politics, then first of all, I'm sorry. Second of all, you can understand why I haven't really had time to write fic in the past few months.)  
>   
> My boyfriend and I are watching Rebels - a rewatch for me - and I just realized how much I missed writing about this space family. I really like Kanan's relationship with Rex, and wanted to delve a bit deeper into his underlying issues with clones stemming from his childhood trauma. I also love any opportunity to write Kanan and Hera being supportive of each other - and also any opportunity to write them bantering. (In season 2 episode 9, Kanan tells Rex that Ezra gets his attitudes from Hera, so they definitely think of themselves as the parents of this crazy crew.)  
>   
> Also, I just really like the intimacy of undressing casually around someone. Not in a sexy way, you just feel safe and comfortable around each other. (Sexy undressing is also great though, and a theme that can be explored in future chapters!)  
>   
> By the way, this fic is compliant with all of the fics I did for Kanera Week 2020. You should definitely check those out! They're a bunch of fun little vignettes that I did in a series. Also, I'm working on a fix-it post-Rebels fic that will be totally undermined by whatever the live-action Ahsoka series does, but you should still read it.  
>   
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos mean everything to me <3


	22. You'll always be my favorite ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan spends time with Hera after she is seriously injured during a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place immediately after the end of season two episode 13, "The Protector of Concord Dawn." In that episode, Hera gets injured by Mandalorian Fenn Rau, the leader of the Protectors of the Concord Dawn, in an attempt to gain safe passage through the Concord Dawn system. Sabine and Kanan team up to complete her mission, and are able to negotiate safe passage through the system and capture Rau.

Sabine sat by Hera’s bed, holding the Twi’lek’s slender green hand in her own. Hera was bruised and bandaged, looking more vulnerable than Sabine had ever seen her. But Hera’s green eyes were still bright and sparkling, filled with the warmth that was so familiar to the _Ghost_ crew.  
  
Sabine had just finished going over the past few hours in detail for Hera, describing how she had challenged Fenn Rau to a duel to the death, but managed to capture him and get access to the Concord Dawn system without any deaths or bloodshed. Hera said that Sabine had acted like a Jedi, a thought that warmed her Mandalorian heart probably more than it should.  
  
“I’m very proud of you, Sabine,” Hera said. “Your diplomatic style is a bit nontraditional, but definitely effective.”  
  
“It’s what the Jedi used to call ‘aggressive negotiations,’” Kanan said. Sabine’s back was to Kanan, but she could hear the smile in his voice. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and tears pricked the corner of Sabine’s eyes. She had never thought she would find another family after she had been abandoned by her parents, but Hera and Kanan had given her a home.  
  
Sabine remembered how Hera had looked when astromechs helped pull her out of the cockpit after their fight with the Protectors, the wreckage of the Phoenix squadron ship still smoking. She remembered the panic in Kanan’s eyes as he caught up to the gurney carrying Hera to the medical bay, the way he grabbed her hand and told her over and over again that she would be alright, even though Hera was unconscious and couldn’t hear him.  
  
Then Sabine remembered Kanan’s insistence on finishing Hera’s mission, the determination in his eyes as he went after Rau's ship. Sabine didn’t know how Kanan was able to concentrate on the mission while Hera had been in danger like that. Sabine had been barely been able to keep her focus, and it was hard to see past her rage at Rau for hurting Hera. But Kanan and Sabine had finished the mission together, and now here was Hera, awake and healing and so proud of them both.  
  
“Are you feeling alright?” Sabine asked. Hera squeezed her hand weakly.  
  
“I’m fine. My head really hurts, but I’ll survive,” she replied.  
  
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Sabine said fervently.  
  
“Me too. Someone needs to keep all of you in line,” Hera said teasingly. She squeezed Sabine’s hand again, this time with a bit more strength. Hera’s eyes flickered up to Kanan, her expression tender, and Sabine suddenly realized that the two hadn’t been alone together since Hera returned to consciousness.  
  
“I’m going to go check on the boys. Make sure they’re not getting into too much trouble,” Sabine said, standing and releasing Hera’s hand. Hera smiled at her knowingly, completely aware that finding Ezra, Zeb and Chopper was a flimsy excuse to give Kanan and Hera some space.  
  
“Sounds good,” Hera said. “Thank you, Sabine. For everything.”  
  
“You did great,” Kanan said to Sabine, squeezing her shoulder again before taking the chair next to Hera’s bed.  
  
“I’ll check in on you later,” Sabine said, turning to walk out of the room.  
  
As soon as Sabine was gone, Kanan grabbed Hera’s hand and kissed it.  
  
“You really scared me for a minute,” he said, his voice low. “I thought I might have lost you.”  
  
Hera smiled softly. “Never,” she said. “I’m sorry I scared all of you, though.”  
  
“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault,” Kanan said, shaking his head. He raised his left hand to her face, brushing her cheek lightly. “How do you feel, really?”  
  
“Like a bantha sat on my head,” Hera groaned. Kanan laughed.  
  
“You have a pretty nasty concussion,” he said. “You might want to slow down with the rebellion for a bit and take time to heal.”  
  
Hera gave him a look, arching one of her perfect eyebrows. Hera Syndulla? Slow down? Please.  
  
“Hey, you know I had to try,” Kanan said with a smile. “You’re always so busy taking care of everyone. You need to let me take care of you sometimes.” He kissed her hand again, more gently, his desperation and fear leeching away. She was alright. Wounded, but alright.  
  
“I’m proud of you, too,” Hera said softly. “You finished the mission, and you watched over Sabine. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”  
  
“I was just as tempted as Sabine to teach Rau a lesson for hurting you,” Kanan admitted. “But I knew that wouldn’t make you heal any faster, and it wouldn’t solve the problem of gaining a new hyperspace route.”  
  
“Look at you, thinking things through,” Hera teased. “Maybe I should get injured more often.”  
  
Kanan squeezed her hand. “Don’t you dare,” he said fervently.  
  
“I’m teasing you, love,” Hera said, smiling softly. Kanan huffed a laugh.  
  
“I know. But maybe hold off on your jokes about getting hurt for a while,” he said. “And don’t be too proud of me, I wasn’t completely rational. I immediately told Rau I was a Jedi and then later jumped on his ship while it was flying.”  
  
“There’s the man I know,” Hera said with a laugh. “I would have liked to see you hanging on for dear life on Rau’s ship.”  
  
“I had the situation under control the entire time,” Kanan protested. “Although I am lucky he’s not as good a pilot as you, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”  
  
“Hey, if I’m not allowed to tease you about getting injured, you can’t tease me either, okay?” Hera said. “I don’t even want to think about what happened. I’m just glad you’re safe.”  
  
Kanan kissed her hand a third time.  
  
“We’re both safe. That’s what matters,” he said quietly. “Hera, when I saw you on that gurney after Rau destroyed your ship…” Kanan shook his head and swallowed thickly. Tears rushed to his eyes as he remembered how small she had looked, how broken. He wiped his eyes with the back of his left hand. Hera squeezed his right one gently.  
  
“I know, love,” she said softly. “I know how scared I would be if anything happened to you.”  
  
Kanan nodded. Even now, bruised and bandaged, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.  
  
“Would the medical droid freak out if I kissed you?” he asked, smiling weakly. Hera laughed.  
  
“He’s not in the room right now. We can give it a shot,” she said.  
  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Kanan said.  
  
“I’ll let you know if you are,” Hera replied.  
  
Still holding Hera’s right hand with his own, Kanan stood up and leaned over her. He brushed his lips gently to hers, feather-light, afraid of applying too much pressure. Hera put her left hand on the back of his neck, pushing him down lightly, a physical indicator that she was okay, he didn’t have to be so gentle.  
  
Kanan smiled into the second kiss. Hera always knew what she wanted, and wasn’t afraid to get it. She carded her left hand through his hair and tilted her head up, just a little, to better lean into the kiss.  
  
Hera made a contented humming sound as Kanan pulled away, her eyes still closed.  
  
“Worth the risk?” he asked, his face still inches from hers. Hera opened her eyes and smiled, and Kanan felt his heart thudding in his chest. It didn’t matter how many times he kissed her, he would never get used to it, the joy that came with knowing that someone as wonderful as Hera had chosen _him_.  
  
“Definitely worth the risk,” she said, a little breathless.  
  
Kanan pressed another quick kiss to her lips before sitting back down.  
  
“I should let you rest,” he said. “I have to give Commander Sato my official report on the mission.”  
  
“Stay just a little longer,” Hera said, her eyes half closed. “Please.”  
  
“I’ll stay as long as you like,” Kanan promised.  
  
“These drugs the medical droid gave me are kicking in. I’ll probably fall asleep soon. You won’t need to stay too long,” she said.  
  
“I’ll be here as long as you want me to be,” Kanan repeated. “Everything else can wait.”  
  
“Okay,” Hera said, closing her eyes.  
  
Kanan sat next to her for several minutes, waiting for her breathing to even out. He stood once he was sure Hera was asleep, knowing that he would be there again when she woke up.  
  
“I love you,” Kanan whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Hera’s forehead before leaving the medical bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm in the middle of season 2 in my rewatch? 😂  
>   
> I really like this episode because it involves Kanan and Sabine teaming up and getting quality father/daughter time, plus there's some nice angst when Hera gets injured. By episode 2x14 Hera is fine again, so I wanted to sneak in a little hurt/comfort with this chapter in between those two episodes.  
>   
> I love looking at Kanan and Hera as the parents of the crew, so I wanted to get Sabine's perspective of that. I also thought it was a good opportunity to explore Kanan and Hera's relationship in their most vulnerable moments — plus, I can never resist a little foreshadowing. 😭  
>   
> OH also I completely headcanon that Anakin's OG reference to "aggressive negotiations" was incorporated into Jedi culture as a kind of inside joke 😂  
>   
> FYI, I have a plan for the next few chapters. We'll see if, during my rewatch of season 2, I'll feel inspired to write any more chapters that take place before Twilight of the Apprentice. If not, I'm going to cheat a bit and incorporate small fics I've already written into the next two chapters. They're really good fics and they fit into the timeline so why not! So you can either read (or reread) my smaller fics about Kanan recovering after Malachor now or just wait until I add them as chapters into this fic. 😂  
>   
> I live for your comments and kudos — they bring me so much joy. Thank you so much for reading! I love you all ❤️


	23. Ghost stories III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More scenes of life on the Ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another interlude, like chapters nine and fourteen, featuring scenes of life on the Ghost. These stories take place towards the end of season two, and the middle scene takes place specifically after season two episode 17.

“You don’t have to do this, Ezra,” Kanan said, his voice almost pleading.  
  
“Yes, I do,” Ezra replied.  
  
“You’re in over your head, kid,” Kanan said.  
  
“You’re my master! Aren’t you supposed to believe in me?” Ezra asked.  
  
“He just knows a lost cause when he sees one,” Sabine said with a smirk. She quirked an eyebrow at Kanan. “Are you done arguing now, or can we get back to business?”  
  
“I still don’t see why I can’t participate,” Zeb complained from his seat next to Hera on the bench in the common room. Hera’s eyebrow was raised in wry amusement.  
  
“You’re a Lasat, Zeb! You could do push-ups for hours,” Ezra said. “It wouldn’t be a fair contest.”  
  
“A competition between you and Sabine isn’t really a fair contest, either,” Zeb grumbled. “I could have Hera sit on my back, even the odds a little.”  
  
“Uh-uh. Leave me out of this,” Hera said. “I’m not sitting on anyone’s back.”  
  
“You could join the contest, Hera!” Ezra said. “Do you know how to do a push-up? I’ve never seen you…exercise at all, actually.”  
  
Hera rolled her eyes at him, but her smile belied any exasperation in her voice. “You’re not going to bait me, Ezra. You just want me to join so I’ll be the worst one at push-ups instead of you.”  
  
“That’s ridiculous!” Ezra sputtered. “I just care about your health. You’re always sitting in that pilot’s chair.”  
  
“I get plenty of exercise,” Hera said flatly. She exchanged a quick smile with Kanan, who tragically realized he could not say _“yeah, you do”_ suggestively and give Hera a high-five around the kids. He settled for winking at her instead, and appreciating the slight blush that crept up her cheeks.  
  
“Quit stalling, Ezra,” Kanan said, turning to his padawan. “You’re the one who said you had to do this.” Ezra sighed, as if only now realizing the futility of challenging an extremely buff Mandalorian to a push-up contest. To be fair, he had been egged on by Sabine, who frequently made fun of Ezra’s seeming inability to do more than 15 push-ups at a time.  
  
“You ready?” Sabine asked. She tipped forward and landed in a perfect plank.  
  
“Show-off,” Ezra muttered, getting down on his hands and knees with far less grace. Chopper beeped a giggle, pleased by any opportunity to see Ezra suffer.  
  
“Okay, go!” Kanan said.  
  
Ezra collapsed on his stomach after 37 push-ups, which was still a new record for him.  
  
“You can stop now, you know,” he said to Sabine, who was continuing to do perfect push-ups even after he gave up. “You’ve won.”  
  
“I’m good,” Sabine said lightly, barely breaking a sweat.  
  
“Ugh,” Ezra said, pressing his cheek against the hard metal floor. Zeb patted a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, snickering.  
  
“You tried your best, kid,” Zeb said. Chopper chortled happily.  
  
“I hate all of you,” Ezra mumbled.  
  


* * *

  
  
Hera had called a family dinner after they picked Zeb up from the icy moon of Geonosis, insistent on the need for all of them to welcome him home.  
  
“So, what happened out there?” Ezra asked hesitantly when they had all sat down with their food. As was unofficial tradition during family dinners, Kanan, Hera and Zeb sat on the bench in the common room, while Ezra and Sabine sat on the floor, Chopper standing vigil nearby to complete the small circle.  
  
“It really wasn’t too bad,” Zeb said, chewing thoughtfully. “I was stuck with Agent Kallus, actually.”  
  
Ezra almost choked on his food. Sabine patted his back as he coughed and sputtered.  
  
“Agent Kallus was there?” Kanan asked. “What happened?”  
  
“He snuck on board the escape pod with me. Broke his leg when we landed. You humans are so weak sometimes,” Zeb said, continuing to eat casually.  
  
“Is he – still alive?” Hera asked hesitantly.  
  
“Yep. Left him on the moon to be picked up by his precious Empire,” Zeb replied.  
  
“You left him there?” Ezra asked, gasping a little as he spoke.  
  
“This is why you should take smaller bites,” Zeb said, gesturing at Ezra’s still-red face.  
  
“Zeb, I think we all would like more details,” Kanan said. Zeb sighed and put down his utensils.  
  
“We were stuck in this cave which had these big monsters with beaks. We helped each other climb out. Kallus shot at the beasts when he had the chance to kill me. That’s it, really,” Zeb said.  
  
“Oh, that’s it?” Ezra scoffed. “Kallus has been hunting us for months! And you just let him go.”  
  
“Ezra,” Kanan said warningly. Zeb shook his head.  
  
“Yesterday, I would have killed him. But today, he helped me survive. I’m not saying I’m friends with him now, but he earned my respect,” Zeb said.  
  
“Unbelievable,” Ezra said. Kanan glared at him.  
  
“We’re just happy you’re safe, Zeb,” Hera said, diffusing the tension. “And hey, maybe this means the Empire will go a little easy on us next time.”  
  
“Probably not,” Zeb said, taking another bite.  
  
“Yeah,” Sabine sighed. “Since when do we get that lucky?”  
  
“You never know how things will turn out,” Hera said diplomatically.  
  
Zeb smiled. He wasn’t optimistic, but he had seen something in Kallus when the _Ghost_ arrived to pick Zeb up – a sadness, almost a longing for the friendship and community that Zeb had. Maybe even someone as rigid as Kallus could change.  
  
“I’m just glad to be back,” Zeb said. “Lasats aren’t meant to be in the cold that long.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Hey, Hera,” Sabine’s voice crackled over the com. “I think I’ll be painting in my room for a while. Mind giving us some mood music?”  
  
Hera smiled. “Sure thing, Spectre 5,” she replied, before hitting the button to play the radio over the ship’s speaker system.  
  
When Sabine first joined the _Ghost_ crew, she would often hole up in her room for hours to paint during long treks through hyperspace, blasting music on a small radio that could be heard all the way in the cockpit. Hera had asked if it was okay to play the music throughout the ship – “We’ll hear it anyway, and this way we all get to enjoy it” – and Sabine had agreed with one of those shy, delighted smiles that Hera loved so much. She liked reminding Sabine that she was valued, that her work was not a burden to the crew, but a gift.  
  
In her room, Sabine smiled as she heard the music play over the speakers. She hummed along as she pulled out her paints, giving a little twirl before beginning her work. Sabine giggled as she danced. Sometimes listening to music and painting made her feel like a kid again, safe in her room on Mandalore and able to move freely without any judgment from her family. Sabine shook the can of red paint and began her work, spraying in the rhythm of the beat.  
  
Zeb was in the kitchen, blowing on a hot cup of tea. He grinned when he heard the music, knowing that it meant Sabine was painting. He tapped his feet in time to the music and closed his eyes.  
  
Most Lasat rituals involved dancing. They were an expressive people, and they used their bodies to show their appreciation for the universe around them. Zeb put down his cup of tea and slowly, almost shyly began dancing some of the old steps he learned as a child on Lasan, giving thanks to the elders through the joy of movement.  
  
Ezra was alone in his room practicing lightsaber forms using one of the programs on Kanan’s holocron when Sabine’s music filled the ship. It seemed like the beat of the music matched the movements of Master Skywalker demonstrating different techniques. _One…two…three…four…one…two…three…four…_  
  
Fighting was a kind of dancing, Ezra mused, as he swung his lightsaber to the rhythm of the song.  
  
At his charging station, Chopper hummed contentedly. The droid loved it when music played throughout the ship. It meant his family was together, and they were happy.  
  
Hera was alone in the cockpit tapping her feet when the door opened.  
  
“I figured it was a lost cause to try to meditate while Sabine is painting,” Kanan said as he walked in. He extended a hand to Hera. “Dance with me?”  
  
Hera grinned and took it, allowing Kanan to pull her up from the pilot’s seat and into his arms. The beat was a bit quick, but they moved slowly, Hera’s head resting on Kanan’s shoulder.  
  
“Do you remember the first time we danced?” Kanan asked softly.  
  
“Mm-hmm. Canto Bight,” Hera replied.  
  
“You looked so beautiful. I could barely concentrate on the mission,” Kanan whispered.  
  
“I know. You weren’t subtle,” Hera said drily. Kanan laughed softly.  
  
“Neither were you. You were so nervous when I asked you to dance,” he said.  
  
“That was only because I didn’t know how to dance,” Hera protested. Kanan laughed again.  
  
“No, you just hadn’t admitted you were madly in love with me yet,” he teased. Hera smiled and shook her head gently, letting Kanan lead her around the cockpit with slow steps.  
  
“Just dance, dear,” she said, closing her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shamelessly self-indulgent series of vignettes for y'all. Basically this was an excuse to insert several of my headcanons into one nice chapter. Also some meta references in there - Kanan and Hera's discussion about their first dance is a reference to one of my fics for Kanera week last year, a one shot that was basically just an excuse to have the two of them looking hot and flirting on a secret mission. That fic is "The way you look tonight," in case you're interested in reading it.  
>   
> I *think* I'm going to do one more chapter before we move on to post-Malachor feels. My boyfriend and I just watched Twilight of the Apprentice last night and needless to say, I cried.  
>   
> As always, thank you so so so much for reading! Your comments and kudos truly make my day. I always mess up hyperlinking in html, but if you want to find me on tumblr I'm at skywalkeh dot tumblr dot com. Love y'all ❤️❤️❤️


	24. Tomorrow's ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera and Kanan have a conversation before he leaves for Malachor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place directly after season 2 episode 20 and directly before season 2 episode 21. Basically, it's pre-Twilight of the Apprentice feels.

Neither Hera nor Kanan were able to get any sleep on the night before he left for Malachor.  
  
The rest of the _Ghost_ crew had said their goodbyes to Kanan and Ezra after dinner, Hera pulling the young Jedi into a fierce hug.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Ezra had said with a grin when he broke away, jerking his head at Kanan. “I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble.”  
  
“As long as you stay out of trouble, too,” Hera had replied, hiding her heartbreak at Ezra’s departure with a wide smile.  
  
Kanan and Hera had walked to Kanan’s room silently after dinner. They didn’t speak as they stripped out of their day clothes and into pajamas, Kanan wordlessly helping Hera remove her flight cap. She didn’t really need his help pulling the cap off of her lekku, but it was a habit they had picked up, a small ritual for the two of them before going to bed. Hera’s heart lurched as she thought about taking it off without Kanan once he had gone.  
  
They kissed for a few moments after lying down on the bunk, but Hera quickly broke away, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.  
  
“I – I can’t,” she said, turning her head away from Kanan. She felt almost angry with herself. This was her last night with Kanan for who knew how long, possibly forever, and she could barely stand to touch him without wanting to burst into tears.  
  
“That’s okay,” Kanan said gently as Hera rolled off of him and lay at his side, her head still turned away. “I don’t think I can tonight, either.”  
  
Hera squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to hold the tears back. She had known this was coming for a long time. Kanan needed to go to Malachor, and he needed to take Ezra with him. She had been preparing for life without Kanan and Ezra for weeks now, forcing herself to hold it together even as her heart broke every time the two left to go on a solo Jedi mission.  
  
She had to be strong for Kanan and Ezra. She had to be strong for the rest of the crew. She had to be strong for the rebellion. She had to let them go, and she had to _stop crying, Syndulla._  
  
“Hey,” Kanan said softly. “Hera, look at me.”  
  
Hera sniffed and turned her head back to him, wiping away the tear sliding down her cheek impatiently. He was lying on his side facing her, turquoise eyes filled with concern. This was why she didn’t want to cry. The last thing Kanan needed was to worry about her right now. The last thing she needed was to rely on Kanan to comfort her when she knew it would only make their parting more difficult.  
  
“We will see each other again,” he whispered, repeating the words he had said while they embraced on Chopper base a few hours ago, watching the sunset.  
  
_You don’t know that,_ Hera thought. But she just nodded.  
  
“I just wish I could go with you,” she said quietly. Kanan took her hand and placed it on his bare chest, right over his heart.  
  
“You’ll be with me. And I’ll be with you,” he said. Hera nodded and bit her lip, as if to prevent her fears from escaping through her lips.  
  
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Kanan said, as usual able to read her thoughts just as well as she was able to read his.  
  
“It’s not important,” Hera said.  
  
“Please be honest with me, Hera. Don’t push me away before I’m even gone,” Kanan said quietly.  
  
Hera sighed. Being vulnerable was difficult for her, and even after all of these years with Kanan, it was sometimes still hard to be truly open with him.  
  
“I’m so proud of you, Kanan, and of Ezra. I’ve seen the way you’ve both grown over the past few months. But – I’m scared for you, too,” she said after a moment. “I know you all need answers. But what if those answers aren’t enough for you?”  
  
Hera closed her eyes, immediately chastising herself for her honesty. Now Kanan would think that she didn’t believe in him and Ezra, now Kanan would know how scared she was and –  
  
“I’m scared, too,” Kanan said, interrupting Hera’s internal spiral. “Even with Ahsoka there, I don’t know if we’ll be able to handle it. I don’t know if Ezra’s ready, if I’ve done enough to teach him. I don’t know if I’m ready.”  
  
Hera opened her eyes and looked at Kanan. His hair threatened to fall over his face without the ponytail to hold it back. She brushed a strand behind his ear and rested a hand on his cheek.  
  
“You are ready,” she said. “Even if what you find there is more dangerous than you expected. You are ready. And Ezra is ready, too.”  
  
“How do you know?” Kanan whispered. Hera knew it was just as difficult for him to be vulnerable as it was for her, and she felt a great swell of love for him, for his own willingness to be honest when it was easier to isolate.  
  
“Because you trained him,” Hera said firmly. “You’re a great teacher, Kanan.”  
  
He smiled, somewhat disbelievingly. One of Kanan’s greatest faults was that he could never see how wonderful he was, how strong, how good. Hera knew in the back of her mind that Kanan would say that was one of her greatest faults as well, that she couldn’t see the same in herself.  
  
“I’m scared for you, yes. But I also believe in you,” Hera continued. “You will find your answers, whatever they are. And then you’ll come home.”  
  
Kanan turned his head and kissed Hera’s palm, which had been resting on his cheek.  
  
“I love you,” he said quietly.  
  
Hera nodded and pressed her lips to his. _I love you too,_ the kiss said. _I love you too. Please come back to me._  
  
Hera pulled away. Wordlessly, Kanan lay on his back and extended his right arm, inviting her in. She shuffled closer and rested her head on his chest, her arm draped across his stomach. His right arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. They lay there silently for moments which stretched into hours, neither able to fall asleep for more than a few minutes at a time.  
  
Kanan, Ezra and Ahsoka were leaving early that morning, so it seemed like no time at all before Kanan was extricating himself from Hera’s arms and rising out of the bunk. Hera watched him quietly as he left the room to take a shower, his bare feet padding softly on the metal floor.  
  
When Kanan returned a few moments later, she watched as he pulled on clothes, tied back his hair and attached his lightsaber to his belt, the night’s sleepless anxiety melting away as he transformed into Kanan Jarrus, Spectre 1, Jedi Knight.  
  
“I need to make sure Ezra actually woke up,” Kanan said.  
  
“If he didn’t wake up when his alarm went off, I’m sure he’s awake now. Zeb wouldn’t let it go on for too long,” Hera said, forcing a smile. She stood up and walked over to Kanan, feeling vulnerable in her pajamas and bare feet while Kanan looked ready to take on a Sith army. She shook away her own insecurity and placed her hands on his face. Kanan closed his eyes.  
  
“Come back to me, Kanan Jarrus,” she said softly, pulling him into a final embrace. He wrapped his arms around her tightly as they kissed fiercely, almost desperately, his lips crushing into hers.  
  
“I will,” Kanan said when they broke apart, his clear turquoise eyes determined. “I promise.”  
  
Hera sat back down on the bunk as Kanan turned away and walked out of the room. She pressed her face in the palms of her hands and finally allowed herself to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanan and Hera are such a good/interesting couple because they're very open with each other, while at the same time also kind of terrible at communicating. Sometimes they have to be prodded into being vulnerable, even after several years of being together. We love a supportive relationship between two damaged people who realize that having a partner is hard work!  
>   
> I like the idea of using fanfic as a way to explore those themes only hinted at in the show, and so wrote this chapter as a way to expand the conversation between Kanan and Hera before he leaves for Malachor. Also, I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort fics, so this chapter and the next couple of chapters are filled with feels 😈😈😈  
>   
> (Again, I'm kind of cheating because the next two chapters have already been published as one-shots, but they fit into the larger narrative so I'm also posting them as chapters here. It makes sense in my head!)  
>   
> Keep those comments coming - they make my day! Love y'all ❤️


	25. Coming home a ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Kanan returns from Malachor, he feels completely broken. Hera reminds him to come back to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place a few days after the events of season 2 episode 22, "Twilight of the Apprentice." CW blindness and description of depression.

Kanan knew that he was lucky. _Fortunate,_ Master Billaba would say, and she had been as familiar with the injury that came with defeat as anybody – the physical toll, and the mental.  
  
He had the Force to guide him, but that didn’t keep him from bumping into corners around the ship. He had thought he had known the _Ghost_ so well, after all these years, but the layout seemed far different when everything was dark. Unlike wearing a blindfold, he couldn’t lift the shroud of darkness from his eyes. It would be there forever. His heart clenched.  
  
Kanan knew he should be out of his small room, spending time with the others and training Ezra. He hadn’t spent as much time with his padawan lately as he knew he should. He had tried to comfort Ezra on the return trip from Malachor, reassure him that Ahsoka's sacrifice and Kanan's injury was not his fault. Kanan didn't think he had been too successful, but it was harder to reach out to Ezra now when he couldn't see the emotions etched on his apprentice's expressive face.  
  
Ezra was keeping his distance from Kanan anyway – probably giving him time to heal. Time wasn’t the problem, though. Time wasn’t what was holding him back.  
  
There was small rap at Kanan's door. Hera. He could always feel her, her presence bright and blazing in the Force. It was part of what he loved about her – no matter where she was, how she was feeling, she was so alive, a beacon against the darkness. His guiding light. But his love for her was overwhelmed by his guilt that she felt she had to knock, when this was her room just as much as it was his. He had been pushing her away.  
  
“Come in,” Kanan said. He heard the whisk of the doors opening and closing.  
  
“What are you doing sitting here in – “ Hera started, and then cut herself off.  
  
“In the dark?” Kanan finished for her. He forced his lips to quirk into a smile. “It’s always dark for me now.”  
  
It had been a few days since they had taken the bandages from his eyes. He still rubbed them sometimes, expecting his vision to miraculously clear, but it was always the same – dark, colorless, sightless.  
  
“Sitting in the dark can be a state of mind,” Hera said, and Kanan could hear the gentleness behind the playful tone. “The kids are outside, helping set up gear for Chopper base. We could use an extra pair of hands.”  
  
“Not sure that I would be much help,” Kanan said. He felt her sigh more than he heard it, felt her walk across his small room, felt her weight as she sat on the bunk next to him. Felt her hand close over his, which were clasped in his lap. He forced himself not to pull away.  
  
“You can’t avoid us forever, you know,” Hera said.  
  
“I’m not avoiding you,” Kanan said, hating the sulky note that crept into his voice. He could hear Master Billaba in the back of his head, chiding him against self-pity.  
  
“You are,” Hera repeated, steadily. “And you don’t have to. We’re your family, Kanan. We need you.”  
  
Kanan shook his head.  
  
“You don’t need a blind man stumbling around, ruining missions and getting you into trouble,” he said.  
  
“We’re always getting into trouble anyway, and you’ll get better at the stumbling part. Besides, we both know you can fight without your vision,” she said. She hesitated for a moment. “Kanan, Ezra has been – distant since you two returned from Malachor. He needs his master.”  
  
“Ezra?” he laughed. “What can I possibly offer Ezra now? I was never a good enough teacher for him, and now – “ Kanan broke off, feeling the emotion threatening to choke him off. He breathed deeply.  
  
“Kanan Jarrus, do not give me that line. Not again,” Hera said, almost sharply. “You are good enough. You’re exactly the teacher Ezra needed, just as he was the padawan you needed. You losing your vision doesn’t change that. It doesn’t change the bond you two have.”  
  
Kanan felt Hera’s slender hands on either side of his face, turning it to face her own.  
  
“I can’t see you,” he whispered.  
  
“You can always see me,” Hera said firmly. “I need you to promise me something.”  
  
“Anything,” he murmured. He would give her anything, even now. He would offer her the galaxy if he could get it, if he knew that it would make her happy.  
  
“Promise me that you’ll stop hiding in this room,” Hera said.  
  
“I’m not hiding!” Kanan protested.  
  
“You are,” Hera said. She tilted his head towards hers until their foreheads were touching.  
  
“I know this is hard for you. I can’t imagine what it’s like,” she continued, her voice a low whisper. “But you are the strongest person I know. You will get through this. _We_ will get through this.”  
  
_We._ It was incredible, after all these years, a simple word from Hera could make his heart pound. He could feel her soft breath on his cheek.  
  
“You promised you would come back to me, before you left,” Hera whispered. "Please come back to me."  
  
Kanan realized with a jolt that Hera wasn’t just asking on behalf of Ezra, or the crew, but herself. They hadn't slept in the same bed since they had gotten back to Chopper base, hadn’t kissed since that morning when he left for Malachor. Kanan had said he needed space to heal, and Hera of course respected that, but that wasn't the only reason he had kept her distant. He knew he had never deserved Hera even when he had his sight, and now he was just a shadow of what he once was. Kanan felt a deep well of shame in his stomach, as a truth he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself came tumbling out of his mouth.  
  
“I don’t know what I can offer you anymore, Hera,” he said, his voice cracking, a tear squeezing out from his closed, sightless eyes. “You need a partner who can fight with you, with the rebellion. You need someone – whole.”  
  
Hera kissed him softly. It was quick, and feather light, just a brush of lips before she pulled away and placed her forehead back against his.  
  
“Losing your vision doesn’t make you broken, Kanan. And it doesn’t change my feelings for you. _Nothing_ could change that,” Hera took a deep, shuddering breath. “When you were on Malachor, I was so worried about you and Ezra. I was so worried that I would lose you.”  
  
She paused, formulating what to say next. That was another thing he loved about Hera. She always chose her words carefully, made sure that every sentence carried weight.  
  
“You came back. So why do I still feel like I’m losing you?” she whispered.  
  
Kanan's heart broke at her words, and he pushed aside the voice in his head saying that he wasn't good enough, that he didn't deserve Hera. He pulled her into a tight embrace, felt her shuddering breath against his chest.  
  
“You will never lose me,” he said firmly, feeling the most certain he had since Malachor. “I will always be there for you.”  
  
Hera pulled away slowly.  
  
“So stop trying to push me away,” she said. “Come back from Malachor. Come back to me.”  
  
Kanan might not ever understand what Hera saw in him. But she loved him. She wanted _him._ And he never, ever wanted to let her down.  
  
“I’m here,” he said. “I’m here with you.”  
  
Although he couldn’t see her face, he placed his hand on her cheek and pulled her to him, kissing her like he hadn’t been able to in months. There had always been something in the way – the mission, the kids. But now there was nothing between him, only his pride. And it wasn’t worth losing Hera over something as small as pride.  
  
He pressed his mouth against hers, deepening the kiss. Hera twined her hand in his hair, ignoring the ponytail, and he pulled her softly from her seat next to him onto his lap.  
  
“Whoa there,” Hera said, pulling away, but he could hear the smile in her voice. Feel her blazing presence in the force, feel his heart banging against his ribs like it always did when they embraced, like it had the first time she kissed him. “Are you sure about this?”  
  
Kanan knew she wasn’t just talking about the kiss. He pushed aside his feelings of guilt and despair that had overwhelmed him since his return.  
  
“I’m sure,” he whispered. He laid back onto the bunk, shifting his position so that his head was on the pillow, but making sure to keep a hold of Hera’s waist the entire time. He wasn’t letting go of her so easily, not now. Hera huffed a little laugh of surprise and delight – stars, he loved her laugh – and leaned down so that her face was hovering just inches above his.  
  
“Stay right here,” she whispered.  
  
“I thought you wanted me to stop spending time in my room,” Kanan teased. “Have I changed your mind?”  
  
Hera gave him a swift kiss on his cheek.  
  
“Occasionally, exceptions will be made,” she said seriously.  
  
She leaned down to kiss him, her hand once again wending its way through his hair. She gave it a gentle tug. He held her tighter, pulling her closer to him as they kissed.  
  
_I love you,_ he thought.  
  
He pulled away from the kiss, more than a little pleased by the soft, unhappy noise Hera made as he did so.  
  
“I love you, Hera,” he said. Although he knew she wasn’t sensitive, he sent a gentle prod through the force, enveloping her with the warmth of his feeling for her. “Thank you for reminding me who I am.”  
  
He may not be able to see Hera, but he knew she was smiling. He put a hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it.  
  
“It’s good to have you back,” she whispered, ducking down to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was super fun for me, because it's based on the first Kanera fic I ever wrote. (All the way back in April! Time flies when you're in the middle of a horrific global pandemic.) This chapter is basically identical to that one-shot fic - titled "Set me down in your warm arms" - with some minor edits. It was fun to revisit this fic and this scene after just watching Twilight of the Apprentice, so it's very fresh in my mind, and after writing the previous chapter. Before he left for Malachor, Hera was the one pushing Kanan away. When he returns, it's the opposite. I just like how they are always each other's biggest supporters in the worst of times.  
>   
> You are currently getting very frequent updates to this fic because work has calmed down a little, but it's probably going to pick up again soon. My plan is to publish the next chapter tomorrow, and then update when I can!  
>   
> Thank you all so much for reading. Your comments and kudos make my day. Ginormous virtual hug to you all ❤️🤗


	26. Ghosts in the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera and Kanan spend more time reconnecting after Malachor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mildly smutty, so CW for brief description of oral sex. But the main focus is on emotions, as per usual.  
>   
> This takes place after the first episode of season 3, when Kanan and Ezra reconcile, but before any of the other events of season 3.

Things were better after Reklam Station.  
  
Kanan had forgotten how much he enjoyed being on a mission, how he loved sitting in the co-pilot’s seat with Hera at the helm. He hadn’t realized the extent to which his own fear had damaged his relationships with Ezra – with his family. Bendu hadn’t just helped Kanan to “see” the universe around him, but to see how he was hurting the ones he loved the most, as well as himself.  
  
The mission at Reklam Station had been a hard lesson for Ezra to learn. Kanan remembered being Ezra’s age, filled with so much anger and grief and guilt that it threatened to overwhelm him. Ezra had felt alone, and turned to a Sith holocron in his isolation. That was Kanan’s mistake – assuming that he had nothing more to give Ezra, and abandoning his padawan even without meaning to.  
  
When Kanan was a teenager, isolated and afraid, he had turned to drinking and petty crime. Ezra had a far more dangerous temptation, and the Dark Side had begun to consume him. But Kanan had been alone when he was Ezra's age, without anyone to guide him. He wouldn’t let Ezra live the same way, not again. He would always be there for his padawan, and always come back for him, just like he promised.  
  
But although his relationships with the _Ghost_ crew had largely been repaired in recent days, Kanan still found himself struggling to fall and stay asleep. It had been months, but sometimes his blindness still surprised him. When he woke in the middle of the night in a lightless room, the natural darkness made it easy to forget that he had lost his sight.  
  
But when his vision didn’t adjust, and the darkness remained all-encompassing, he would briefly be jolted again by the realization that it would never get any brighter. There would never be any change when he opened his eyes. Kanan had to remind himself again and again to rely on his other senses and use the Force to guide him.  
  
Even now, as he lay in his bunk in the middle of the night unable to fall back asleep, a small, traitorous part of him still wished it would end, that one day he would open his eyes and miraculously be able to see again. Kanan could hear the rumble of Bendu’s words echoing in his head, chastising him not to dwell on his insecurity. He knew that he was lucky to have such a supportive family, and that he would always have sight in the Force.  
  
But still, he wanted to see Ezra continue to grow into a young man, see Sabine’s latest hair color, see Zeb’s expression when Chopper played a prank, see Hera smile.  
  
Stars, he missed looking at Hera. He missed watching her as she got dressed in the morning or flew a particularly difficult mission. He missed how she would stick her tongue out of the corner of her mouth when she was concentrating, how she would scrunch up her nose when she laughed. He missed watching her lead. She was the leader of a rebel cell, now. Authority suited her.  
  
Kanan could feel himself sinking again into the dark abyss of doubt and self-loathing that had threatened to consume him for months. Reconciling with Ezra had helped to pull him out of that hole, but it would be easy to fall back in.  
  
He took a deep breath, in and out, just as he had learned in the Jedi Temple decades before. He may be blind, but he would not return to that form of darkness. He would be there for Ezra, for Hera, for his crew.  
  
“Are you alright, love?” Hera asked sleepily. She was lying on her side next to him, her body curved towards his almost protectively.  
  
“Did I wake you up?” Kanan asked.  
  
“No,” Hera said, sounding more awake. He felt the impression her body made on the bunk as she propped her head on her land, heard the soft rasp of her skin against the sheets. “You didn’t answer my question.”  
  
“I don’t have an answer,” Kanan said, truthfully.  
  
“That’s okay,” Hera said softly after a moment. “You don’t need to have an answer. I just want to make sure you’re not pushing me away again.”  
  
Kanan felt a familiar surge of guilt as he thought about how distant he had been to Hera in the days and weeks after his injury, how hard she worked to convince him to come back to the crew. Come back to her.  
  
Kanan turned on the bed to face Hera. He took her right hand with his own and brushed it against his lips.  
  
“I’m not. I promise,” Kanan whispered.  
  
“Good,” Hera said. She brought his hand to her cheek – an invitation. Kanan swiped her lower lip with his thumb, then gently pressed his fingers to her nose, her forehead, her eyelids.  
  
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. Kanan could feel her smile under the brush of his fingers. He let his hand slide down her neck, her shoulder, the length of her arm. He tentatively reached out to brush the hollow of her neck and glide his fingers along the delicate ridges of her collarbone. He traced her sternum with his index finger, catching on the collar of her sleep shirt.  
  
Wordlessly, Hera sat up and pulled the shirt off. She lay back down and replaced Kanan’s hand on her chest. He drew a sharp intake of breath. They had kissed, but they hadn’t been truly intimate since before Malachor. Since before his injury.  
  
Slowly, Kanan allowed his hand to slide down further, feeling the curve of each breast. Even before he lost his sight, he knew Hera’s body by touch alone – what made her shiver, what made her hum, what made her laugh and what made her moan. He traced his fingers down her waist and onto her hip, then back to her stomach. He heard Hera’s breath hitch. Clearly she had missed feeling his touch as much as he had missed touching her.  
  
He paused, his hand hovering just above the waistband of her pajama pants.  
  
“What if I do something wrong?” Kanan asked, his throat constricting. He knew Hera’s body incredibly well – like, _really_ well – but it would still be different now. Everything was different now.  
  
“Then I’ll tell you, and we’ll figure it out. But I don’t think you will,” Hera said softly. “I know things are different, but this hasn’t changed. We haven’t changed.”  
  
Kanan huffed a laugh. Hera wasn’t Force sensitive, but sometimes her ability to read what he was thinking was uncanny.  
  
“Well, except for the beard. That may take some getting used to,” Hera continued casually.  
  
“I’ve always had a beard!” Kanan protested.  
  
“Just on your chin. Now it’s on your cheeks and above your lip too. Things could get scratchy,” Hera teased. Kanan laughed again, already feeling lighter. He would never understand how Hera could do that, could make him feel whole and right again with just a few words.  
  
“I’m willing to find out if you are,” he said.  
  
“Oh, I’m more than willing,” Hera replied. He could hear the grin in her voice. Kanan put two fingers under the elastic of her pajama pants and snapped it.  
  
“Let’s try it out,” he said.  
  
Kanan pressed his lips to Hera’s collarbone, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugged gently on her left lek. He peppered soft kisses on her upper chest, slowly working his way down.  
  
“You’re such a tease,” Hera groaned as he lightly nipped her left breast above the nipple.  
  
“I’m sorry, is there something else you’d like me to do?” Kanan asked innocently.  
  
Hera turned so she was lying on her back. “Yes,” she said simply. Kanan laughed. He continued to press gentle kisses down her stomach, over to her left hip, then the right. He hooked the edge of her pajama pants with his fingers and pulled them down over her thighs, her calves, her feet.  
  
Hera immediately spread her legs, barely waiting for Kanan to pull her pants off. He laughed again.  
  
“Someone’s in a hurry,” he said, kissing her inner right thigh. Hera groaned, equal parts frustration and desire.  
  
“Kanan Jarrus, I swear I’m going to – ” Hera’s threat ended in a moan as Kanan swiped his tongue over her clit.  
  
“I’m sorry, what are you going to do? I didn’t catch that,” Kanan teased. Stars, he had missed this. Missed the taste of Hera, how she moved, the little sounds she made when she was trying to be quiet, the way her back arched off the bunk when she came. Hera was so strong, so capable, so together – he liked to be the one who made her undone.  
  
Hera took a fistful of his hair and pushed his face back down.  
  
“Why don’t you put – that mouth – to better use,” Hera said, struggling to get a full sentence out as Kanan resumed his work. Her breath became shallower, faster, punctuated by soft moans. Her hand grabbed his arm wrapped around her leg, the grip tightening as she sighed his name.  
  
She came hard after only a few minutes, barely able to swallow a shout as her hips bucked and her back arched. Kanan smiled as he pulled away, wiping his mouth against the sheets before giving her another small kiss on her inner thigh. He clambered back up the bed and laid down next to Hera, who was breathing heavily, like she had just run a race.  
  
“Oh, I missed that,” Hera said after a few moments in comfortable silence.  
  
“Me too,” Kanan said. “Sorry it took me so long.” He felt Hera shake her head next to him.  
  
“Don’t say that. You needed time. And it was worth the wait,” she said. Kanan laughed.  
  
“So the beard wasn’t a problem, then?” he asked. She brushed her fingers over his still-sticky mustache.  
  
“Not a problem,” she said. “See? I told you there was no reason to worry.” Kanan smiled.  
  
“I know you pretty well,” he said.  
  
“Better than anyone,” she replied. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss, crushing her lips against his.  
  
“Your turn,” she whispered as she pulled away. Kanan laughed.  
  
“I love you, Hera,” he said.  
  
She kissed him again, more gently. She didn’t tell him she loved him often, and never around other people. Kanan didn’t mind, knowing that Hera showed her love for him in other ways – through actions, in soft touches, by allowing herself to be vulnerable around him.  
  
For Hera, saying the words was almost a sacred rite, saved for only the most perfect occasions.  
  
“I love you, too,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, forgot to put this up yesterday. But it's up now! The past two chapters have been from Kanan's perspective, and the past three have been heavily focused on Kanera moments. But don't worry, there will be chapters from other characters' perspectives coming soon!  
>   
> This chapter was adapted from a fic I did for Kanera Week 2020, called "Rise in perfect light." It's almost entirely the same, but with minor edits and more discussion about Kanan and Ezra's relationship in the beginning.  
>   
> Things are pretty angsty for awhile after Kanan gets blinded. It's probably just because I'm a clinically depressed person, but I like grappling with Kanan's struggles with mental health. It's an uphill climb for him to come back to himself after Malachor, but he chooses to make that climb, and has the help of his family and especially Hera.  
>   
> Even though I don't usually write smut, I actually thought it was narratively important because Kanan and Hera need to reestablish intimacy! (And they're hot and deserve to have fun sexytimes.)  
>   
> Ok, that's enough rambling. Thank you so much for reading, love y'all ❤️


	27. Reflection of a ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera and Ezra have a chat after the mission on Geonosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after episodes 12 and 13 of season 3, "The Ghosts of Geonosis." Episode 11, which involves Ezra going to Dathomir with Maul, is also mentioned.

There was something special about Ezra Bridger.  
  
When Hera first met him, Ezra had been so cynical, a child aged prematurely into adulthood by the ravages of war and the ache of abandonment. But that hard shell was simply spun armor, constructed to protect a warm and loving heart from being broken yet another time.  
  
Ezra had reminded Hera of Kanan when she first met him on Gorse, but Kanan had more practice in hiding his true nature, and it took longer for the real person underneath to emerge. Ezra had only been among the _Ghost_ crew – his new family – for a few weeks before he had opened up, revealed the beautiful soul beneath.  
  
The thing about Ezra, Hera reflected, was that he made you want to be better. Despite everything that had happened to him, he still saw the best in everyone. When you looked at him, you saw yourself reflected like a mirror, only it was your best self – not necessarily as you really were, but as you could be, as Ezra _believed_ you could be. It was why everyone who met him felt immediately protective of him. It wasn’t just that they wanted to keep him safe – although of course that was part of it, everyone knew that someone as special as him needed to be treasured and kept close. No, they wanted to be near Ezra so that they could convince themselves they were worthy of the unshakeable faith he had in them.  
  
Hera had felt this urge in herself, and knew that it was also reflected in Kanan. Ezra made Kanan a better Jedi, a better man, a better leader and surrogate father to his crew. But she also saw it in Rex, how the old clone felt like he had purpose again when he was working with Ezra. In Hondo, a washed-up old pirate who had occasionally chosen friendship over riches only because of the young Jedi’s influence. Ezra even had that effect on Maul – he had seen something in Maul’s twisted, dark soul, a flicker of light that perhaps made the former Sith lord worthy of redemption.  
  
Ezra saw his own compassion as a weakness, sometimes, because it meant that he could be easily fooled by those he wanted to trust. But Hera knew it was his greatest strength.  
  
Ezra had even influenced Saw Guerrera, that extremist who was infamous for never showing mercy, by convincing Saw to let the Geonosian Klik-Klak and the last egg of his species remain on their planet. The young Jedi embodied the best of the rebellion: hope, mercy, compassion, love. Fighting _for_ something, not against.  
  
“You’re looking at me weirdly,” Ezra said from across the kitchen table. Hera blinked, and took a sip of her caf.  
  
“Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking.”  
  
“About what?” Ezra asked. He blew on his cup of caf and took a tentative sip, wincing at the heat. Hera felt a surge of love for him. Ezra was so grown up in so many ways, but he could still barely handle a hot cup of caf.  
  
“About you, and how proud I am of you,” she replied. Ezra blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
“He- _ra_ ,” Ezra said, stressing the last syllable of her name like he always did when she was embarrassing him. Hera reached across the table and grabbed his hand.  
  
“I’m serious, Ezra. You did a very brave thing today, convincing Saw to show mercy to an enemy,” she said.  
  
“It was the right thing to do,” Ezra said, looking down shyly, although he didn’t pull away his hand from hers.  
  
“It was. But it wasn’t an easy thing to do,” she said. “I can almost always count on you to do the right thing, Ezra. Even when it’s difficult.”  
  
Ezra looked up at her, a wry smile on his face.  
  
“ _Almost_ always?” he asked. Hera smiled back.  
  
“Almost. But even when you make a mistake, you learn from it and you do the right thing in the end. That’s a rare quality,” she said. Hera squeezed his hand and pulled hers away, taking another sip of her caf.  
  
“I try my best,” Ezra said, keeping his tone light, but with an earnest expression in his eyes that melted Hera’s heart.  
  
“I know you do,” she said gently. “I wanted to check in with you. We haven’t really talked since your latest encounter with Maul.”  
  
Ezra shrugged, and looked sheepish. Hera knew he felt guilty for having gone with Maul again, after everything he had done to Kanan and the crew.  
  
“You didn’t have a choice, Ezra. You had to go with him,” Hera said, preempting any apology he might attempt. “And we got you, Kanan and Sabine back safely. The only thing I care about is how you’re doing now.”  
  
Ezra looked at her with his clear blue eyes and allowed himself a small smile.  
  
“I’m okay,” he said.  
  
“Really?” Hera pressed. Ezra hesitated, and took another sip of caf to stall. It really was ridiculous how similar he was to Kanan sometimes.  
  
“Sometimes it’s hard,” Ezra said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, I am okay. I’m really proud of the work we do for the rebellion. But sometimes I – I get overwhelmed by everything, and I just want to take a break, you know?”  
  
Ezra immediately looked guilty, as if he had committed some sin by admitting to being tired. To being a person.  
  
“I get it,” Hera said. “Sometimes I would really like a break too. Just, get away from Chopper base, the rebellion, all of it.”  
  
Ezra looked at her, surprised.  
  
“Seriously?” he asked. Hera nodded gravely.  
  
“Seriously. Every day I think about taking the _Ghost_ to some planet with nice beaches and disappearing for a few rotations,” Hera sighed.  
  
“By yourself?”  
  
“Hmm, I’d probably bring Chopper,” Hera said, then almost immediately broke into laughter at the offended look on Ezra’s face. “No, Ezra, all of us. The whole family, relaxing on the sand somewhere.”  
  
“Sabine hates sand,” Ezra said automatically. Hera laughed again.  
  
“My point is, there’s nothing wrong with wanting a break,” she said. “And we all need to take some time off when we get the opportunity. If we don’t get rest, we won’t be able to do our jobs to the best of our ability when we’re truly needed.”  
  
Hera paused, taking another sip of her quickly cooling caf.  
  
“Why don’t I talk to Commander Sato and ask if we can have a couple of rotations to ourselves. We can stay on Chopper base, in case there is an emergency, but not do any missions. Just – give us all a break,” she said.  
  
Ezra tilted his head, unconvinced.  
  
“You really think he’d let us do that?” he asked.  
  
“Even Commander Sato understands the need to take a break, Ezra.”  
  
“I’m not so sure,” Ezra muttered.  
  
“I am,” Hera said firmly. “He wouldn’t want to make the leader of Phoenix squadron unhappy.”  
  
Ezra looked at her, impressed. Hera knew that Sato wouldn’t have a problem with it, barring catastrophe, but it was fun to have Ezra believe that she was taking some kind of moral stand for her crew. Maybe he was even right, and she was.  
  
“We’ll need to convince the others to actually relax for a while,” Hera continued.  
  
“I don’t think Chopper or Zeb will have any problem with it,” Ezra said dryly.  
  
“True,” Hera acknowledged. “I’ll convince Sabine, you take Kanan.”  
  
Ezra smiled widely, and Hera felt a rush of affection for him again.  
  
“We’re really going to do this?” he asked.  
  
“We’re really going to do this,” Hera confirmed.  
  
She stood up and walked over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder and planting a soft kiss on top of his head.  
  
“I’m so proud of you, Ezra,” she said again. He looked up at her with that perfect smile and those wide blue eyes.  
  
Hera wanted to have children someday. She and Kanan had spoken about it, tentatively, in the quiet moments on the ship when everyone else was asleep and they were tangled in each other’s arms. But even if that never happened, Hera already thought of herself as a mother. She had Sabine, and she had Ezra – the best kids any parent could hope for.  
  
“You put our mugs away. I’m going to find Commander Sato,” she said.  
  
“Thanks, Hera,” Ezra said quietly. Hera placed a palm on his cheek.  
  
“You’re welcome,” she replied, hoping that Ezra could tell from her touch how much she loved him, and how special she believed he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have a lot of feelings about Ezra Bridger, okay!!! He's such a good and beautiful character, and I felt like he needed some love. Also, I feel like he has such a wonderful relationship with Hera that's kind of under-utilized in the show, so I wanted to have a moment with the two of them as well. (Hera really is the best mom.)  
>   
> Thank you for reading! Love y'all so much. Your comments and kudos keep me going ❤️


	28. Ghost stories IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scenes in this chapter take place at the end of season 3, after Sabine leaves the crew temporarily to reunite with her Mandalorian family. The middle story is after episode 19, where Chopper is briefly hijacked by the Empire.

“I miss Sabine,” Hera said, her head resting on Kanan’s chest. His arm, wrapped around her shoulders, squeezed her briefly.  
  
“Me too,” he replied quietly. They didn't often get to talk like this, just the two of them, so their conversations were often relegated to the few hours of the night when they showed be sleeping.  
  
It had been a couple days since Kanan and Ezra had returned to Chopper base without Sabine. Hera was so happy that Sabine had reconnected with her family, she really was. The _Ghost_ crew hadn’t spent much time together recently anyway, as the Rebellion ramped up and the missions became more dangerous.  
  
Still, a part of Hera missed when it was just the six of them. The jobs had been smaller, getting by far more difficult. But they had all been together, a tight-knit little family.  
  
“What are you thinking?” Kanan asked. Hera sighed.  
  
“We always knew they were going to grow up,” she said quietly. “Sabine and Ezra. We always knew they would find their own way. And that’s good, that’s how it should be. But – sometimes I miss the way it was.”  
  
Hera sighed. Kanan kissed the top of her head, waiting for her to continue. He was such a good listener, always giving her space to talk.  
  
“I’m so proud of the kids. I’m so proud of the rebellion, and the work that we’re doing. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I believe that we have a real chance to strike a blow against the Empire. I just – ” Hera paused again, closing her eyes, “it’s just hard sometimes.”  
  
“You don’t always have to be Hera Syndulla, Phoenix Leader. Not with me,” Kanan said quietly. “You can be proud of what you’ve accomplished, _and_ miss our time before the larger rebellion. You don’t have to feel guilty about that.”  
  
Hera smiled into Kanan’s chest. He always knew what she was thinking, always knew the best way to comfort her. (Well, mostly always. More often since Malachor, anyway. He had become more attentive, more attuned in certain ways since he lost his sight.)  
  
“I believe in the cause. I believe we can make a difference,” Hera said quietly.  
  
“We can. _You_ can,” Kanan said. “But it’s okay to take a break sometimes, too. It’s okay to miss Sabine.”  
  
Hera nodded, knowing that he was right and yet still trying to convince herself that he was right. It was hard to break out of old patterns, particularly when she was used to taking on everything as her own personal responsibility.  
  
“Thank you, love,” she whispered. Kanan kissed the top of her head again, sensing that she was conflicted.  
  
“It’s okay,” he repeated. “It’s okay.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Chopper stood at his charging station, humming contentedly. Hera sat cross-legged in front of him, her hand resting on the side of his dome.  
  
“I still can’t believe they did this to you,” Hera said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
Chopper beeped his assent. Being controlled by the Empire hadn’t been fun – being forced to compliment AP-5 and Wedge even less so – but Hera had made up for that violation by destroying that kriffing ship and everyone inside it. People underestimated how lethal Hera could be, but Chopper knew. You didn’t want to make her angry – not unless you were prepared to suffer the consequences.  
  
“Nobody messes with my droid,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against Chopper’s dome. Chopper beeped his agreement.  
  
“We’ve been together a long time, Chop. I will never let anyone take you away from me,” Hera said, pulling away.  
  
 _No one can take you away from me either_ , Chopper beeped in response. Hera smiled.  
  
“We protect each other, yeah?” she asked.  
  
 _Always_ , Chopper said.  
  
Hera nodded.  
  
“Always,” she echoed.  
  


* * *

  
  
“I miss Sabine,” Ezra said. He was lounging at Zeb’s little outpost on the edge of Chopper base, watching the spiders creep along the unchanging Atollon landscape. Zeb claimed that, as chief of security for the base, he needed his own station to survey the perimeter for incoming threats. But everyone knew it was really just a place for him to rest and listen to his favorite music on the radio, with Ezra as his occasional companion.  
  
“Me too, kid,” Zeb said, taking a sip of his drink.  
  
“I’m really happy that she’s back with her family. But we’re her family too, you know? And things just feel different without her,” Ezra continued. Zeb always knew that his chances of having a quiet evening were ruined when the kid came around. But Zeb liked having Ezra’s company, and liked that the kid felt comfortable enough to share his feelings. They had come a long way since their meiloorun days.  
  
“They do,” Zeb agreed.  
  
“Things are just so different now. I mean, I’m a lieutenant for the rebellion! That’s a pretty big jump for a street rat from Lothal,” Ezra said. “We’re part of a bigger mission. I never thought I’d be part of anything.”  
  
“Times change,” Zeb said.  
  
“Sometimes I miss when it was the just the six of us on the _Ghost_ ,” Ezra admitted. “I mean, the missions were a lot smaller, but we were together, you know?”  
  
Zeb nodded, watching a couple of spiders skittering around about 30 feet away from the border of the base.  
  
“I miss move nights, and family dinners. We haven’t had a movie night in forever. I even miss watching those stupid romance holos you like,” Ezra continued.  
  
“Hey, those holos aren’t stupid! They’re beautiful,” Zeb interjected. Ezra rolled his eyes.  
  
“Sure, whatever. My point is, we don’t spend as much time together anymore,” he said.  
  
“Yeah,” Zeb said.  
  
“Obviously I’m really happy the rebellion is going so well. I can’t wait for the attack on Lothal. We’re going to make the Empire pay,” Ezra said, a familiar tone of determination threading his voice.  
  
“We sure will,” Zeb said.  
  
“But I feel like things are a bit more complicated now, you know? Things used to be so simple,” Ezra continued, his voice calmer. Zeb shrugged.  
  
“Maybe. Maybe you just didn’t see it,” he said.  
  
“See what?” Ezra asked.  
  
“Life is always complicated,” Zeb said simply. Ezra frowned.  
  
“I guess,” he replied, unsure. “Anyway. Sometimes I just want to go back to the way things were.”  
  
“Everyone wants that sometimes,” Zeb said. “But you can’t.”  
  
“Well, I know that,” Ezra said, exasperated.  
  
“Listen, kid. I’ve lost a lot of good things in my life. Good people,” Zeb said, looking at Ezra squarely for the first time. “You can’t get that time back. You can be grateful for the times you had, but you have to stay focused on where you are now. That’s what matters.”  
  
Ezra looked at him, surprised by Zeb’s sudden vehemence. Zeb smiled reassuringly at him, letting the kid know that he wasn’t angry. Sometimes he forgot how _young_ Ezra was.  
  
“We’ve had some good times, yeah?” Zeb said, leaning back in his chair.  
  
“Yeah, we have,” Ezra agreed, returning Zeb’s smile.  
  
“And we’ll have some more,” Zeb said. “Life is a cycle, kid. The good times always come back around.”  
  
Zeb tossed Ezra a drink from the cooler next to his chair. Ezra opened the can and slurped up the fizz that escaped down the side.  
  
“Thanks for listening, Zeb,” Ezra said after a moment.  
  
“No problem,” Zeb replied, taking another sip of his drink. They watched the sun dip below the horizon in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, I basically wanted to do a few short scenes about growing up. By the end of season 3, the _Ghost_ crew has really evolved into true rebels. Sabine and Ezra are beginning to go their own ways, and Hera is gaining more responsibility as a rebel leader. I just wanted to show how it can be hard to grow and change, even though growth and change is a good thing - and show that it's okay to miss the past while still being in the present.  
>   
> That's all pretty philosophical! I also just wanted to show some of my favorite relationships - obviously Kanera, but also Hera and Chop, and Zeb and Ezra. I particularly had fun writing Zeb and Ezra's conversation, because Ezra would definitely be the friend who talks a lot while Zeb is the friend who just says two words at a time 😂  
>   
> (Also Zeb's little hideaway is only shown in season 2 episode 20, I just liked the idea of it and wanted to use it again.)  
>   
> Let me know what you think! I know it's a bit soon to have another Ghost Stories interlude, but I thought it was worth it. Thank y'all so much for reading ❤️


End file.
